Woman Vs Wild
by 0Prolific0Change0
Summary: "Sucking up her courage and steadying her trembling hand, the woman unsheathed the mascara and gingerly approached her eyeball with it...and...missed." Disaster dates, unruly centaurs, broken fairytales and unexpected romance. Updated!
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I DO NOT OWN SAINT SEIYA**

**This is going to be a romantic fic featuring Shaina :). Advice and comments are very much appreciated.**

***= I am referring to René Descartes here**

**Middle section is a flashback.  
**

**Reviewers receive my undying love and affection 3.**

**12/17: Revised.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Woman vs. Makeup

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," the woman muttered under her breath as she walked through a long corridor lit by a series of torches. "How could I be so stupid?"

The woman paused then to slam her fist into the wall, her iridescent green hair coming loose from her low bun. The day's events dominated her every thought, every action, every breath.

"Damn you, damn you, damn you."

Cracks spread from epicenter of her punch, and realizing that anymore ranting would literally bring the walls down, Shaina stood back for a moment. Assessing the damage of her handiwork, she was suddenly struck by its unexpected beauty. The pattern spread across the wall like a spider web. The warm light of the torches bounced between the stone wall fragments, and the hue of the flames tinted the bland gray with a fiery red.

A smile graced her lips as she pondered whether or not she should show this masterpiece to Sei-

Oh, she realized. Oh, oh, oh.

No.

Him. The Bastard.

Now Shaina focused the abuse at herself, smacking her face with her palm. She was not to think about that Bastard. _To think was to acknowledge, right?_ She thought. _Isn't that what I've-been-dead-for-some-300-years* said?_ And she most definitely did not recognize that Bastard as a saint, as a comrade, or as a man.

He was just a boy. Always and forever just a naive, cruel boy.

Shaina pulled at the strands of the new frock she had bought for today. The dress was a blush pink color, v-neck with no sleeves and a ruffled skirt. She even wore those goddamn heels that had tight straps that dug into her heels. But now, the sole time she acquiesced to vanity, it was all for naught. Today's events exhausted her, both mentally and physically, and consumed her thoughts. The past 24 hours seemed much longer and painful than usual.

Shaina leaned against the wall and slid down into a ball on the floor. As she tucked her head on top of her knees, she consented to allow sleep to take her, if only for a few minutes.

* * *

_Flashback to "The Incident"  
_

_A young woman, for the first time in her 18 years, attempted to apply makeup. This ancient art form, according to a Greek Teen magazine she read, was a must have weapon when one was likely to encounter a member of the opposite sex. Apparently, smoky eyes and glossed lips augmented a woman's 'natural' beauty. And, also apparent, natural beauty wasn't necessarily 'natural' enough._

_The earlier mentioned young woman had in fact bought many editions of Greek Teen magazine recently, desperate and confused. Earlier that day, a certain young man had offered her a yellow rose and an opportunity to spend a day with him. After accepting his offer, the young woman panicked. Although she had led armies, fought demonic specters, and escaped Death's clutches on a daily basis, she held no experience when it came to…_dare she say it_…. 'Dating'._

_Seven magazines and basket of make up products later, the young woman marched home, determined to master the skill set she had yet to have need for. After entering the small cottage she shared with a red-haired woman, the young lady locked herself, the magazines, and the products in the bathroom._

_The young woman analyzed the set of images in mag number 3 (so far, her favorite). The model made the process appear easy and simplistic, waving the mascara wand like a fairy godmother, magically transforming her somewhat drab eyes into those of a starry eyed doe._

_Sucking up her courage and steadying her trembling hand, the woman unsheathed the mascara and gingerly approached her eyeball with it….and….missed._

_On her first try, her eye rebelled at her want to put paste on her lashes and blinked, making the wand brush right beneath her lower lashes. She looked as if she were preparing for a juvenile sports game rather than a romantic encounter._

_Reigniting her determination and to a degree, her cosmos, she tried again._

_Her second attempt made her first look unmatchable. Once again she missed brushing her lashes and instead stabbed her eye. Shrieking, the young woman dropped the mascara wand to clutch at her now weeping eye_

_"Hell and damnation! Cursed product! Damn you and all of your petty followers! Arrgghhh!"_

_Across the hall, the young lady's roommate could not help but hear the cries coming from the bathroom. Concerned that her friend had been attacked, the redhead rushed to the bathroom and knocked down the door. The roommate scanned the room, seeking evidence of foul play, but only found a bottle of mascara and a green-haired teenage girl curled up on the floor, involuntarily weeping._

_"Oh, Shaina," the redhead sighed._

* * *

Out in the hallway of Sanctuary's main temple, Shaina slept in the fetal position. Although passing saints occasionally stopped to stare at the unconscious girl, none dared to wake or move her. It was an understood fact that the saint of Ophichus was an erratic, unexplainable character with erratic, unexplainable motives.

Only one person dared to approach her prone, sleeping form. He chuckled as he watched her childishly toss and turn, caught in the thralls of a dream. The male saint gently picked Shaina up and carried her bridal style to her small little cottage and to her worried, redheaded roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own Saint Seiya.**

**Secondly, this chapter expresses my views on Shaina. I see her as one who believes true romance is just like a fairytale, and I hope I was able to express that (somewhat).**

***=outfits matryoshkas wear  
**

**Third, I know there are 73 visitors. I dare you to prove your existence by reviewing. Special thanks to Intensify for reviewing! Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Woman vs. Fire

When Shaina woke, the sight of her own room greeted her eyes, rather than the plain wall of the hallway. She still wore the dress from yesterday, but she was home. She was safe.

But how had she returned?

The thought sent shivers up her spine when Shaina realized that whoever brought her to her room might have seen her secret. The secret only Marin knew (and only because they lived together!). Shaina flung her covers off and rushed to the shelves adorning her wall. Oh yes, whoever-it-was most definitely saw her secret.

The objects of Shaina's affection (or the OSAs) stood proudly on the shelves, permanently attired with ornate sarafans* and wearing an expression of joyous contempt. Their bulbous forms made them a hassle to play with, but the delicate paintwork attracted the eye. Yes. They were matryoshkas, or Russian nesting dolls.

Shaina owned at least 100 of them.

The pope had wondered for years why Shaina had so willingly accepted (and even volunteered for) missions to Russia. If some unfortunate soul had ventured into her room, the answer would've literally stared him/her down. But Shaina's reason for collecting them was far from superficial.

* * *

_FLASHBACK:_

_A young, 6 year old Shaina remained stoic, clutching her younger sister's hand and her mother's. Though they didn't speak, the warmth pulsating between their palms communicated their emotions. The smaller, dark haired girl shuddered and grasped tighter on to Shaina's hand, her nervousness apparent in the glances she shared with her family. Their mother's shoulders shook, and her vibrant viridian bangs covered her eyes. Shaina. The rock. The middle. The one who preserved the balance. Only she maintained a calm façade as they approached the masked women._

_When they were only a few feet away, the mother hesitated. Both Shaina and Geist looked up at her, silently praying she had found another solution. But instead she fell to her knees and gazed, eye-level, into a pair green and a pair of brown eyes. She admired her daughters' delicate features, her intuition telling her both would grow to be stunning beauties. Their mother cupped Geist's cheek and gently placed a kiss on her forehead. A mother's last blessing. She repeated the action with Shaina, and if one squinted, sadness glimmered in her eyes._

_"Shaina, Geist," she began, her voice husky with emotions as she delivered her last piece of advice, rambling now. "Remember this; always stay true to yourselves. Meld your mind like a blade. Let no one refuse you freedom. Guard your heart like a pit viper," their mother's voice began to waver. "Forgive me. Forgive me for not being able to protect you. You two are the only blessings God has given me, and I have failed. I love you. Forever, and ever, and always."_

_She then pulled a matryoshka from her coat pocket._

_"Look. This represents us. I am the large one, 'cause I am the mother. Then there is Shaina," she said while revealing a doll with vibrant hair and strong eyes, "and then there is you, Geist" her voice trembled. The last doll was the most delicate with flowing dark hair._

_"This is our family, forever together. A souvenir… So you do not…" she left off the last word, unable to continue._

_She placed the doll in Shaina's hands just as the Amazons removed the two girls from their mother's embrace and led them to their fate._

_Sneaking one last parting glance, Shaina noticed her mother's expression break under a storm of tears parading down her face. But she could think of no soothing consolation._

_Shaina regrets it to this day._

* * *

Shaina's earlier panic vanished to be replaced with a sense of apathy. She was already viewed as a hopeless fool for so boldly professing her love for a man who never wanted it and 'allowing' so many men to view her face. The unforgiving metal she strived to adorn stared openly at her. The purple marks around the eyes gave off a sense of pity for it's once mighty mistress.

No sense it wearing it now. No sense in preserving inexistent pride.

A surge of fury coursed through her veins as her trembling hands grasped the infernal metal.

"Damn you. Damn you. Damn you for stealing my freedom."

Shaina then ran out the door with her mask in one hand and matches in the other. The cool night air swept through her tossed locks as she plowed her way to her destination. Hell with it being 3 AM. It was now or never.

Shaina smelled the campsite near the arena before she reached it. The stench of smoke and charcoal never left that area. After gathering several logs, she artistically placed the mask on top of the mini pyramid. Without moment's hesitation Shaina struck the match aflame and stood back to watch her mask-her most powerful captor- burn into molten metal.

* * *

There were good things that naturally accompanied life, like sunshine, dewdrops, and soft breezes. _But there are negatives_, Camus often thought, _Such as idiots. _Currently, at the obscene hour of 3 in the morning, the overly hyper Scorpio saint insisted on bothering him during his hours of rest.

"Camus! Get up! Get up! Get up! You have to see this!" Milo shouted as he shook Camus.

Irritated with Aquarius's lack or response, Milo began to jump on his bed, except being the overly excited saint with a serious lack of foresight, Milo forgot to control his strength. Cracks spread through the walls and with Milo's final fateful leap, the entire wall crumbled. At this Camus's eyes shot open and his expression stated how flabbergasted he felt. Milo attempted to creep away from his friend but found it to be in vain.

"Milo…" Camus grumbled as a dark aura gathered around him. "I am going to make you regret the day I was revived…"

Milo sweat dropped and began mumbling unintelligible pleas for mercy.

_15 minutes and a few bandages later…_

Camus sighed as he calculated this new expense to put on Milo's 'Tab of Incidents Caused by Inevitable Stupidity'. And he thought Milo matured during their time apart. Speaking of the Scorpio, he now sat sulking in a corner, a permanent wounded puppy expression plastered on his face. Camus sighed once more.

"What…" he said while searching for an appropriate verb, "_possessed_ you to visit, Milo?"

At this Milo's eyes brightened considerably as he grabbed Camus's arm to lead him to his most recent 'awesome discovery'. Camus prayed to Athena it wasn't related to Milo's precious scorpions, or he would put the buggers out of their misery once and for all.

After stepping outside through the Aquarius temple's new door, Camus could tell, for once, that this had _nothing _to do with scorpions. A ginormous bonfire blazed, the tips of its flame seemingly scorching the sky.

_Two surprises in 15 minutes,_ he thought, _are most definitely not good for my heart. _

The pair rushed to the source of the fire, desperate to halt the conflagration's progressing claim on the land and halt the person who started this mess. They found the perpetuator easily as she sat nonchalantly on a rock, mesmerized by the flames. Camus and Milo could tell from her telltale green hair that she was no intruder. The two felt uneasy as they noticed that the woman's, or Shaina's, striking features were displayed before the entire world. The best friends had dissimilar reactions. Camus most definitely did not want a fan girl, and Milo most definitely treasured his life, but they both were aware of the price of viewing her face.

Shaina sensed their almighty cosmos and turned to face them. The fear and embarrassment on their faces amused her, although she contained her chuckling. Camus blushed cherry blossom pink as he tried to look anywhere but her face. Milo already stood in a defensive position, expecting an attack from the temperamental silver saint.

"I'm not going to kill you, you know." Milo let out a relieved breath, but Camus still appeared incredibly uncomfortable. "AND I'm not going to fall in love with you. _Idiota_!"

Silence stretched between the three, the awkwardness practically palpable as no one knew how to proceed on. Finally, Camus took a step forward, intending to put out the fire. Shaina leapt in front of him, firmly holding the fist he used for Diamond Dust in her palm. He blushed once more at her sudden touch.

"Not yet. It hasn't finished burning."

Curious, Camus peered over her shoulder to see the remaining, unmelted fragment of her mask. He drew back from Shaina's hold, resigned to wait. The awkwardness swiftly returned. Milo squirmed. As the social butterfly of the gold saints, he expected quality conversation and activities to immerse himself in at all times. But in the company of Camus, the moody one, and Shaina, the occasionally homicidal one, he was at a loss as to how to entertain this audience. Cautiously he pieced together a question for Ophiuchus saint.

"Erm… uh… Shaina? Erm…why are you… erm… setting that-" he stumbled as he pointed at her slowly disappearing mask, "on fire…?"

Shaina gave a small, rueful smile.

"My glass slipper broke."


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys^^ I'm not dead! Yay!**

**I just wanted to say thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you Thrudgelmir2333, Itifal, amatizta, and Intensify for reviewing! I couldn't stop grinning when I received your reviews :D. It means a lot to me. To quote John Green, "USE YOUR WORDS". Please review. I will love you forever and ever. :) FYI if somehow you receive alerts that I am changing the story, it is only because I'm editing the formatting. **

**Anyways, sorry I disappeared. This is basically what happened…**

**Teachers: Congratulations! Here are 2 million, useless tests that you shouldn't worry about because they're only going to you know, determine the rest of your life.**

**Me: *hides under desk and dies***

**On a slightly random note, y'know those self-insert/OC stories? Well, I started thinking about what would happen if I somehow magically appeared in the Saint Seiya universe, and I reached two possible conclusions.**

**A) I would die on the first day of training**

**B) Deathmask would eat my face (By the way, what do you think he does with the _r_**_**est **_**of his victims' bodies? Ew, creepy thought)  
**

**Overall Thoughts: I wouldn't agree to go into Saint Seiya unless I had a hell of a lot of pepper spray.**

**Please enjoy this new installment!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Woman vs. Room Mate

It was the silence that irritated Shaina the most. After her grand display of rebellion, she feared retribution from the Pope or from Athena herself. Never before (or at least as far as she knew) had an Amazon so lavishly expressed her displeasure. Seriously. It takes balls to start a bonfire. But days passed. Not hours, but days that melted agonizingly into a week filled with hormonal angst and the occasional tantrum. The anger she had so desperately sought to pacify still burbled deep within her; it had not escaped with the flames. The fervent urgency of this emotion perturbed her. To escape home free was the goal, right?

But Shaina's heart kept on screaming.

_Better yet,_ she noted dryly, _my ever-elusive roommate has made herself scarce these days._

Her expression darkened as she brooded further.

Sanctuary ignored her. The Pope dismissed her.

Athena had forgotten her.

In the end, her act touched no one, and Shaina drowned in loneliness like never before.

* * *

_Flashback to the 'Incident'_

_Her throat clenched up, heart sped up, mind flying on a thousand different tangents. For once, the green-haired woman had absolutely no idea why she was hiding behind a pillar. A goddamn pillar. But now, so close to Him, the young woman's brain seemed to melt like rubber in the face of the Grecian heat. The current focus of her affection sat nonchalantly on a bench by Rodario's single fountain, hands perched on his knees. His gaze lazily flickered over the typical Saturday crowds, combing through the people as if he were searching for something, or perhaps someone._

He's searching_, she thought smugly_, for me_._

_The little, selfish part of the young woman glowed with pleasure as she knew He was all hers for the afternoon. No friends around to distract him, and especially no goddess to command them. _

_Relishing her somewhat unobstructed view of Him, she stared openly, memorizing the gentle touch of his cosmos and his sun-kissed profile. His enormous cosmos coated the whole plaza like a sheet of snow, unearthly and magical. It felt like kindness and strength and most of all, goodness. The feeling it gave her was intoxicating, and the desire to improve herself, to excel, overwhelmed her. She wanted so very badly to be his equal, to stand beside him, fighting rather than acting as a human shield. Every moment she spent around Pegasus sent her flying, the exhilaration leading her higher and higher, her love deepening in proportion to the respect she felt towards him._

_But she was no stupid girl._

_She knew that this happiness could only be temporary, that someday, somehow, she was going to come crashing down to earth with a broken heart as her only souvenir. But when the brunette finally sensed the weight of her gaze and raised his warm orbs to meet hers, any thoughts of falling or flying were pushed aside as she stepped forward to take his hand. _

* * *

Camus kneeled down on the cool floor of Athena's temple. The goddess requested his presence for an audience, and he begrudgingly rose from bed in order to meet with her. The clingy, annoying Scorpio saint spontaneously decided to move into the Aquarius temple soon after Ophiuchus's bout of madness. All Milo wanted to talk about was Shaina, Scorpions, Pyromania, Shaina, Fire, Stars, Shaina. A playlist on endless repeat.

How is she doing? Isn't she brave? Do you think she is pretty? Look! Fred learned a new trick! His stabbing efficiency reached 50%. Ooh, fire is really pretty. I never knew she was beautiful until then, did you? Hey, do you think we should talk to her? Stars are just balls of fire, right? And both Shaina and fire are pretty... So is she a star? I wonder if we would get along… She's a Scorpio too… Doesn't that me–

And on and on and on… The rambles lasted for hours. Camus dreaded that suicide might be the only means of escape from his loquacious friend. Athena needed him whole and complete, not fatigued and irritable. When Camus lowered the temperature of his temple to 0˚ Celsius and boarded up the spare room, Milo merely invested in the Extreme-0-Parka and set up a neon orange, thermal tent smack dab in the middle of the Aquarius temple. And Camus had thought scorpions unable to survive in such an environment… There was no door he could lock, no "KEEP OUT" sign he could hang. He needed to compose an infallible plan to inconspicuously dispose of Milo and his damn tirades.

"Are you listening, Camus?" Athena's voice cut through his reverie.

Oh yes, she inquired about his current 'mission'.

"All is proceeding smoothly, milady," he answered coolly, never one to be flustered.

"Well then you're dismissed Aquarius." As Camus turned to leave, the goddess suddenly called out, "And good luck, Camus. I have faith in you."

The ice saint simply nodded his head as he walked out of her temple.

* * *

Any normal saint would've been petrified to see the infamous Cancer saint leering at them from their doorstep, but to everyone's general consensus, Shaina's classification placed her in the 'Frankly Abnormal' category.

Deathmask, currently in good humor due to his consumption of fine gin, miraculously failed to even voice a complaint about summoning Shaina for an audience. After all, why the hel–_heck_– not? He was heading to town bar anyway…and it wouldn't hurt to reclaim a place in the Pope's good graces…and the imperious liquor cabinet that accompanied such a position. Cancer only needed a few more honorable deeds on his curriculum vitae to make the cut. Escort a few grannies, dissuade a few suicidal cats, boss around the most terrifying woman in Sanctuary… He would–for Athena's sake, of course–do it all with a smile plastered on his face.

(Little did he know that the 'mask' he donned that afternoon terrified the masses tenfold, convincing even the god-like Shaka to pray five minutes more than usual in his temple.)

But earlier, when the Pope asked him all nicely, "Bring me Ophiuchus", offering a bottle in his extended hand, Deathmask replied smartly with a "Sure, no problem, but of course", the whole time his eyes glued to the special blend, limited edition, Scottish gin bottle. Cradling the arguably best drink of sheep piss in the entire continent, Deathmask courteously waited until he was three steps outside the Pope's chambers to get supremely slozzered.

And now he was quite drunk. And now Shaina was quite intrigued.

Forgetting himself for the moment, Deathmask spoke in slurred Italian, "The Pope-y wants to chat wik you, Sheeeennnaa. Oh yeah," he pulled out a white piece of paper, "your golden ticket, missy, seal and the whole shambat."

Shaina grabbed the thin sheet from him eagerly, gently rubbing her fingers over the gold seal of Sanctuary. Sweet recognition coming to her at last. Already she started formulating grand crusades for feminine equality, the gradual elimination of those infernal sheets of metal, and most of all, the eradication of any law dictating the beat of a woman's heart. Lost in her thoughts, it was only when she walked directly into the Cancer saint did she realize he was waiting for something.

"Um… Thanks…?" She responded tentatively, also in Italian.

"Damn right, sista." But for a moment the drunken stupor fled his eyes and he contemplated Shaina thoughtfully. "You know, in a different life, I think we would've been…friends…. or fuck buddies…if there's a difference…" he trailed off. Abruptly he snarled, "Tell anyone about this, and I will kill you."

A bemused Shaina watched Deathmask stumble off the porch and take a deep swig from the bottle he was carrying. Another problem child she must take note of. She shrugged her shoulders as she let out a sigh. But with her sight set firmly on the future, she proceeded to practically skip through the Zodiac temples.

* * *

Camus aggressively massaged his forehead as he half-listened to Milo's insane plan to convert his temple into an ice rink. He proposed that they charge 20 drachmas for 5 minutes on the rink in order to raise enough money to fix the Aquarius temple. The Scorpio saint pointedly ignored any of Camus's remarks that it should be in his temple, since Milo was the one to break the wall.

"So you're suggesting, Milo, that when the next Holy War commences, before even engaging in combat with the specters, that my successors should invite them in for a round of ice skating?" Camus said sarcastically. "I can see it now. 'Oh Wyvern, Garuda, would you like to try out the rink before or after I kill you?'"

"Point taken. But Camus…" he whimpered, "think of the children."

Camus sighed. "Idiot. Don't use a fallacy when making a persuasive appeal, particularly since the appeal to pity you utilized has nothing to do with the subject on hand."

Milo pouted. "It would be fun!"

"No."

And then the argument would start all over again. Not even the cool afternoon breeze could smother the ringing tone of their raised voices. Wrapped up in their somewhat-one-sided argument, Camus barely noticed Shaina's quiet approach. Milo could no longer continue the ice rink argument and moved on to discuss the merits of building a haunted house with the remnants of Camus's blown out temple. Desperate to prove…. _something_…. to Camus, Milo rushed off to gather the debris and create a sample.

"I can see you and Scorpio are quite close," Shaina said, a laugh hidden in her voice as she took in the sight of the garish, orange tent.

"Hn." Camus's attention was directed towards the floor, feeling extremely awkward and wishing for her hasty departure.

However he visibly flinched when he heard the singsong voice Milo only used when he thought he had made a grand discovery. Shaina noticed his subconscious action and offered, "I can get rid of him for a while, if you like."

"By the goddess," Camus rasped out, finally meeting her eyes, "please."

Shaina stepped into the Aquarius temple while manifesting lightning between her finger tips, undoubtedly the premier step in her Thunder Claw technique. Utilizing the kinetic energy of the plasma, she manipulated it into a fierce, blue flame. Then Shaina slammed her fist into Milo's precious winter equipment, which immediately caught on fire. By now, Milo had rushed back to Camus, just in time to watch his makeshift home turn to ash. Desperate to save the stuff he spent over 700 drachmas on, he turned pleading eyes towards the ice saint.

But it was in vain, for Camus appeared dazed, shocked that both his first and second meeting with Ophiuchus involved quite a bit of fire. Seeing his friend out for the count, Milo stepped forward, attempting to create an air current with his arms to soothe the inferno. However the flames just rose higher. Shaina smirked as she pulled Milo by the hair all the way down the stairs to drop him in front of Camus.

"You need a better collar for your dog, Aquarius," she said softly.

Camus mutely nodded his head, taking in the sight of Milo stroking his long locks.

"A favor for a favor, right?" Shaina continued. "I expect this same courtesy-" she chuckled "-if I need it, of course."

The two gold saints waited in uncomfortable silence for Shaina to walk through the temple. Once her cosmos appeared to be a fair distance away, Milo, after thoroughly contemplating a ridiculous notion, nervously rubbed his hands together as he proceeded to speak.

"Do you think pyromania is contagious?"

Camus face-palmed.

* * *

Shaina clenched her teeth angrily as she ran through the twelve Zodiac temples, clutching tightly a new assignment. Her meeting had been a complete disaster. The Pope spoke nothing about her 'rebellion' and gave her instead a diplomacy mission she needed to depart for in five days. When he casually dismissed her, Shaina's control broke as she shouted angrily at him, asking whether he was blind or stupid, because in her book, people didn't start fires because they were happy.

His cold reply shook her to her core.

"_Ahh, you are referring to your lapse in judgment, correct? Fortunately, we have decided not to take disciplinary action towards you, Shaina of Ophiuchus, as we have determined that your actions stemmed from being…as they say…. 'hormonally challenged'. Be thankful that Athena convinced us-a council of anonymous saints-not to immediately order your execution for defying a sacred law of Sanctuary. Now behave, like a good girl, and we can all forget these childish actions that have taken place."_

Lapse in judgment? Hormonally challenged? Execution?

_Marin,_ she thought_, will know what to do. She will know how to console me._

Angry tears began to slip past her calm façade.

_Only a little further_, she encouraged herself, _and then Marin will be there to help you pick up the pieces of your heart for a second time. _

But when Shaina finally reached her homely cottage, she sensed not only the gentle touch of Marin's cosmos but another, much larger and fiercer cosmos. Unable to slow down and plan a proper course of action, she burst into her home to find her red headed roommate flirting with the Leo saint, who had an arm draped around her waist.

Aiolia. A Gold Saint. The one who took Cassios from her.

And now he had taken Marin.

Shaina was outright sobbing now as she screeched, "What the hell is he doing here?"

The couple stared at her; Aiolia tightened his protective hold on Marin's waist while her roommate looked at her, concern etched into her features. Marin opened her pretty pink lips to speak but Shaina cut her off.

"What the hell is he doing here?" she repeated angrily.

Marin exchanged a look with Aiolia and hesitantly began with, "We meant to tell you earlier. It's just… everything has been so hectic."

Shaina's scowl deepened, her tears momentarily halted.

Aiolia continued by saying, "I know this is a bit of a sho–"

"Shut up," Shaina snapped. "I hate you. I only want to hear this from Marin." Aiolia silenced himself obediently, a mistake he would regret at the end of this conversation. She then directed her gaze at the said woman. "How long have you two been whoring around?"

Marin flinched at her choice of words but nonetheless replied. "Two years."

"Bitch. I tell you everything."

Marin visibly deflated; hurt evident in her warm, chocolate eyes, but Shaina took no notice. She laced her words with poison, transforming them into deadly daggers that Marin accepted without a whimper.

_Athena_, Shaina silently pleaded, _please stop me._

By the end of her tirade, Shaina couldn't even remember her exact words, only that her comments were so loathsome and scathing that even the tolerant Leo saint looked at her with disgust. Worse so, they were all half-lies, extremely distorted truths that didn't involve her roommate, paired with Shaina's hotheaded emotions and set to boil. Bile rose in Shaina's throat.

"If that's how you really feel Shaina," Marin practically whispered, "then please leave."

"One step ahead of you," Shaina growled as she grabbed small knapsack by the door and ran out of the small house.

She pretended that she didn't see Marin's single, lonely tear. She pretended she didn't see Aiolia hold Marin close, whispering a lover's comforts. She pretended she didn't hear the goddess in her ear, telling her that this was her true punishment.

She pretended she didn't want to cry.

Mouth set in a grim line, Shaina faded into the night.

* * *

When a touch of a foreign cosmos roused Camus at the midnight hour, he stumbled out of bed immediately. The intruder's aura didn't appear to be aggressive, so he took his time approaching the entryway to his temple, wiping the sleep from his eyes in preparation to glare at the idiot. But when he saw an extremely distraught Ophiuchus saint, he regretted venturing from the warmth of sleep into the cool night air.

"What," he said irritably, "do you want?"

"Remember that favor, Aquarius?" she began, her hands trembling slightly. "I'm moving in with you."

For the second time that day, Camus desperately wished he had a door to slam in her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: HI! I love all of you for still reading this! ToT Special thanks to Thrudgelmir2333 and Intensify for reviewing. :D Please review. It makes me sooooo happy! You can even say, "The sky is blue", and I will be deliriously happy. No joke. As for my not updating, I've been at nerd camp and I attended two weddings in the past month, so I've been pretty busy. I'm going to nerd camp again in 3 days, so expect lots of updates in August. Now for a shameless, review pick up line…**

**Hey I just met you…**

**And this is fanfic….**

**But here's my chapter…**

**So review it maybe? :3**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin'. Not that 'Call me Maybe' or them Saint Seiya characters. **

**And yes, caput mortuum is a color.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Woman vs. Insomnia

"It's just for a little while," she murmured as he led her through the twisting turns of his temple. "Until I…find something…" Her words abruptly died.

The ice saint didn't bother replying as he strutted forward. Miraculously, Camus managed to maintain a stoic front, appearing as if he were completely at ease with the drastic turn of events. In contrast, Shaina followed him silently, a broken waif in a Titan's shadow, her eyes so caught up in her own despair that she noticed nothing of her new surroundings. When they reached a lonely room at the end of a corridor, Camus wordlessly opened the door and ushered Shaina in. Despite it's small size and the layer of dust that coated the floorboards, instant relief and gratitude washed over her.

Shaina looked at Camus, and though her mouth moved, the words, 'Thank you', could not escape her throat.

_God, I am so useless._

Although Aquarius felt extremely irritable and fatigued, he noted the emotion the traumatized saint wished to convey and bid her a curt nod of acknowledgment. Camus then slipped out the room, his footsteps light and graceful as he padded to his own quarters. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Shaina barely mustered a weak breath to rid the sheets of dust. She dumped her knapsack and cast off her shoes and dove into the covers, all the while silently pleading for a dreamless, encompassing sleep.

But Misery hadn't finished with her yet.

* * *

_Flashback to 'The Incident'_

_Glowing. Mystifying. Exuberant. She fit each of those adjectives. _

_A healthy pallor shone in her cheeks, and a relaxed, hopelessly beautiful smile graced her features. The young man who held her hand–and perhaps her heart–carried a similar demeanor. It was obvious to the masses that discreetly observed them that the two were very much in 'like'. Despite the couple's striking features, particularly her viridian hair and his distinct aura, it was the shy looks the two shared that endeared them to the villagers. The girl would nervously give her cohort a sideways glance, of which he always noticed, but when he returned her gaze they both would burst into blushes, muttering awkward apologies. The cycle would then restart with the boy initiating the first soul-searching stare. _

_It was after one of these cycles that the flamboyant costumes of a performing troupe caught the lady's eye. Somewhat enraptured by the smooth cadence of the actors' voices, she unconsciously slowed down. This miniscule drop in speed immediately alerted her companion. Making an executive decision for the pair of them, the boy dragged his lady friend to an unoccupied bench, allowing the two to view the spectacle comfortably. She gently flicked the boy's chin; her mouth in a stern line but her eyes betrayed her delight. He smiled and took her abuse as a sign of affection. _

_As the play progressed, the girl became fixated on a single actress wearing a putrid dress in a similar shade of green to her hair. Currently, the actress was yelling, with the assistance of a woman dressed in caput mortuum pink, at a girl dressed in rags. Throughout the play, Green-y shouted and screeched and behaved horrendously, abusing everyone around her. A sinking feeling rose in her gut as the young woman realized that she, green-haired, and Green-y acted eerily similar. Taking out their anger on others… Believing themselves superior… She agitatedly pulled at her viridian hair, desperately wishing it were any other color, like blue, yellow, or purple… _

_Purple…_

_She tried not to think about Her anymore, but 'twas in vain. The girl in rags transformed into her goddess, and she turned into the forever-jealous stepsister. When the prince finally came on stage, she saw Pegasus. When the ball took place and Cinderella danced with her prince, the young woman involuntarily imagined Athena and Pegasus, in an exclusive, never-ending dance. She knew then that as the ugly, unlovable stepsister, she should step aside, abandoning all attempts to win the Prince's heart. But could she? _

* * *

Shaina tumbled out of bed with a pounding headache, sore muscles, and heavy wallop of depression. Grumbling and groaning she managed to pull herself into a sitting position and took a quick glance at an ancient clock. 3:00 AM. Great. Shaina made a great show of flopping onto her back.

Directing her words to the clock, she muttered, "You suck."

The clock remained neutral.

"Don't look so smug."

The second hand kept on ticking.

"I hate you."

The time now read 3:01 AM.

"Fine."

She ignored her screaming joints and straightened her back, one vertebrae at a time until she stood tall. Sighing, she realized that those measly three hours of rest were all that she would receive. Besides which, guilt pangs had begun their assault on her conscience as soon as her eyelids fluttered close and she realized the degree of how much she must've disturbed Camus's quiet lifestyle. She stared blankly at her hands, wondering how exactly she could repay him.

Literally paying him wasn't option. The paycheck for a saint is close to nothing, but in the end, nobody really complains. Sanctuary provides housing, a job, and food. And besides, who's planning on retirement? Saints stop being saints when they're dead. Also, Camus could take it as an insult.

Cooking…could be deadly. Shaina learned the hard way that jell-o isn't supposed to move. Ever. Too bad she found out _after_ it started chasing saint candidates. Anyways. What about cleaning? After witnessing the disgusting amount of dust in her room, Shaina felt fairly certain that a majority of the arctic temple would be in a similar state of disrepair. It wouldn't be too difficult either; just a little scrubbing here, some spit there.

With renewed determination, she banished all depressing thoughts to a far corner of her mind and focused on her new purpose. She quietly strode out of her room and into the frigid corridor. Shaina had no clue as to which room was what, so she decided to just pick one and get started. Hell with indecision. Luckily, she burst into the room fabled in Sanctuary myth; the private Aquarian Library.

Mahogany bookcases rose from the floor to the peak of the 20-foot ceiling. At least fifty bookcases stood guard, arranged in rows a military commander could take pride in. Although the shelves were enormous, the sheer amount of books overwhelmed them. Instead of order, books piled on books and literature in different tongues sat next to each other. Odd baubles decorated the shelves at random intervals, and there appeared to be no organization by genre. Also, colonies of dust bunnies ran rampant throughout the entire library, excluding one area. A single table dominated that space and contrasting to the state of the rest of the room, only a few books in an orderly stack and a pot containing pens decorated it's surface. But underneath the table an avalanche must've occurred. Crunched up balls of rejected writing stared up mockingly at Shaina, a direct challenge.

As a whole, the library was a chaotic mess.

Shaina could barely hold back her excitement as she sprung into action.

* * *

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

It was the heavy footsteps outside the library that broke Shaina's concentration. Though she sighed and attempted to look irritable, she knew that in the four hours she spent organizing the library, she accomplished more than that lazy Aquarius had in years. Gentle morning light poured through skylights lining the ceiling edges. Shaina thought the soft glow it gave the mounds of books made the whole mess look less menacing and more beautiful, in a these-books-are-so-ancient-and-musty-but-still-look-pretty-and-goldish kind of way. She sighed again and attempted to tame the mass of waves on her head but gave up quickly and rushed out the door, hoping to catch up with Camus.

Unsurprisingly it was Camus tromping about the hallway but he appeared… somewhat off. Instead of his usual grace, he took large, robotic steps, his expression completely void of anything. He seemed to be operating on autopilot, and when Shaina greeted him, he immediately paused and stared at her. And stared. And stared. His eyes looked dull and Shaina felt greatly perturbed by this unexpected change in attitude.

"Um…Camus? Are you…. okay?"

"Café."

"Wh-What?"

Aquarius appeared to be annoyed with her now. His eyes were still blank but a miniscule tick mark manifested on his forehead. He then shook his head sadly and gave Shaina a look of pity, as if she had failed some important test. Camus robotically raised his hand and patted her on the head. However, this small action, intended to be comforting, instead felt like being nailed by a baseball on the cranium. Needless to say, several stars shot across Shaina's vision. After this peculiar exchange, Camus continued on his programmed walk and Shaina followed him, albeit at a distance as she was still wary about him trying to 'comfort' her for bizarre reasons.

But why in the world was he acting so mechanically?

_Wait,_ Shaina's thoughts skyrocketed, _maybe he is…a robot! I mean it makes sense… Sorta… Like, he doesn't talk much at all and has the social skills of a hermit, but if he's a robot, then of course he can't interact with people normally! And when I came here so late last night, he was disoriented because I interrupted his recharging period! And he let me stay here because really he wants to study a human up close and personal to refine his communication skills with members of a different species! Oh my god… Milo… Did…did Milo…create Camus? If so…. then that's why Camus only talks to him! Because Milo is his creator! Or in other words, Milo is his father! IT ALL MAKES SENSE!_

Blinded by her conspiracy theory, Shaina increased her pace tenfold so she could examine Camus closely. She needed to collect more evidence after all.

* * *

The day started nicely for Scorpio Milo. Birds chirped their little nonsense songs, Fred asserted his dominance over the rest of the scorpion pack, Camus lived, Saga was angrily pacing outside of his temple… Oh, Saga.

Milo couldn't help but laugh as he absorbed the sight of the scarlet coloring of the lower half of Saga's face, on display for the world as the former gold saint left his Pope headdress in his chambers. The day before, Milo spiced up Saga's usual shaving cream with something slightly different. The natural clear juice of the Linga berry is a unique protection for the Linga plant; not only does it clearly mark those who eat it with a vehement red but it also causes an intolerable rash, as it violently reacts with chemicals resting on the surface of living skin. With some assistance from Kanon (who opened the pope's chambers), Milo darted in and poured concentrated Linga essence into Saga's vat of shaving cream. His diabolical plan obviously worked.

_I really hope he's not trying to catch a girlfriend._

Milo stifled a yawn. Saga was steadily becoming less entertaining, as the ex-Gemini saint had since settled to sulk on the front steps of the Scorpio temple. But all changed for Milo when a quick glance at his homemade, gingerbread sundial informed him that now was a suitable hour to badger his BFITWFU (Bestest Friend In The Whole Fucking Universe). He sprung into action, a devious grin already spreading on his face in anticipation of the joy to come. But unfortunately for Milo, Saga had been closely monitoring any and all fluctuations in cosmos pressure. The simple act of leaping raised Milo's cosmos by a single degree, instantly catching Saga's attention. The Pope raced through the temple and with a spectacular burst of speed, caught the offending delinquent.

"What the hell did you do, bastard?"

Milo shrugged sheepishly, pointed his gaze upwards, and scratched his forehead innocently.

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

Saga, extremely aggravated, pointed at the rash on his chin. "Fix this."

"Sorry, no can do, bud. I don't fix things."

Saga now seethed with anger.

"What did you hope to gain from this, Scorpio?"

The childish demeanor fled as Milo's expression darkened considerably. He leaned in closer to the young Pope, making use of his superior height.

"Make Shaina cry again, and I'll do much worse than that." Milo pulled away, a carefree smile once again in place. "Kay, onii-chan?"

* * *

The stare off between Shaina and Camus continued in the small culinary area in the rear of the Aquarius temple. Camus obviously wanted Shaina to retrieve something for him, and in turn the female saint (still a little weirded out by the situation) desperately searched the cupboards for whatever it was he needed.

"Is it this?" Shaina held a small, wire whisk in her hand.

Camus blinked.

"No?"

Camus blinked again.

"Okaaayyy then…."

She moved on to pick up a wooden spatula. "This?"

And at that opportune moment, Scorpio Milo burst onto the scene, long locks a-flowing, nice guy pose in place, and eyes a-gleaming. He flashed a dazzling, white-toothed smile at Camus, but his smile dissipated and his eyes widened when he noticed Shaina. With a spatula. In a kitchen. He shuddered.

Shaina hoped that Milo, as Camus's programmer, would be able to correct this malfunction. "Thank goddess you're here! I don't know what's wrong wi–"

Milo bluntly cut her off. "You aren't making jell-o, are you?" he asked while scanning the area for murderous globs of green goo.

"No!" Shaina gritted her teeth, her frustration rising as she saw Milo suspiciously peering under chairs. She promptly smacked him with the spatula. "You idiot! We have bigger problems! Your friend-" she pointed at Camus, "is broken! Doofus!"

"Oh." Milo let out a relieved exhale. "Easily fixed."

Mystified, Shaina watched the Scorpio pull an instant coffee packet and a mug from a higher cupboard. He then set a kettle filled with water on boiling and took a seat around a petite, circular table. After some internal deliberation, Shaina decided to take the neighboring seat and dragged Camus, still somewhat dazed, by his sleeve to join her.

"So… Coffee is the answer?"

"Yep!" Milo grinned. "He's like this every morning. He's been afflicted with this addiction since he was young. I considered sending him to a rehabilitation center, but with the dangerous folks there, our little Camus would be eaten up," he joked.

The piercing wail of the kettle broke the thread of conversation, and Milo rose to further prepare the brew. The bitter, roasting smell of coffee spread its plumes among the rafters and around the room. Camus stirred, his hands reaching eagerly for the mug and once he received it from Milo's careful hands, he took a deep sniff and practically chugged the dark liquid. As he drunk more, Camus quite literally reanimated. His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes gradually became more alert. When he actually realized that two people were intently watching him, he froze. His gaze landed on Shaina first, then switched to Milo, then back to Shaina again. He stared some more.

Feeling just slightly uncomfortable, Shaina mumbled, "Um… Good morning…?"

Camus just rubbed his temples. "So I wasn't hallucinating last night. Grar."

He took another deep sip of coffee, Shaina suddenly became fascinated with a smudge on a wall, and Milo realized, being the dreadfully sexy social butterfly that he is, that the duty of inciting conversation rested on his shoulders. Now he possessed two stubborn boulders he needed to coax into animation. Then the light bulb lit. Milo grinned manically as he noticed that now instead of one playmate, he had _two_.

Out of nowhere Milo glomped Shaina and shouted, "New BFITWFU!"

The only way to describe the Amazon's expression at this point was complete, abject terror. Milo rambled on and on about Three Musketeers, BFITWFUs, jell-o, duos, trios, 'fun', bonding, BFITWFUs, pranking, mischief, Three Musketeers and other related topics.

Shaina, far more bewildered than she had ever been in her entire life, mouthed to Camus, "Is he always like this?"

Camus silently sympathized with her, knowing that until now, she had never experienced a strong dosage of Milo's somewhat endearing (and somewhat terrifying) insane personality. He mouthed back, "Always."

* * *

"You know, Mr. Clock, I don't think we're ever going to have a good relationship."

Time kept on running.

"Seriously. I know you're just doing your job, but could you at least pretend that I'm awake at a sane hour?"

The clock ignored her pleas and doggedly presented the time of 2:00 AM.

"I hate you too."

Shaina rolled out of bed, sighed, and proceeded to walk to the library. Her cleaning of the library had recently become a nightly occurrence, as Shaina developed a not so minor case of insomnia. Go figure. But when she opened the library door, she saw Camus hunched over what looked like a textbook, clearly engrossed in his work.

_This is somewhat atypical… _Shaina thought.

The metallic click of the door behind her caught Camus's attention, but instead of glaring at her as she expected, the Aquarius gave Shaina a small smile. He gestured for her to come sit with him at the table.

"I've been expecting you. Have you been doing this every night?"

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning."

"Pretty much." Shaina felt slightly sheepish under Camus's penetrating gaze.

"Thank you."

"No prob– Oh my god, you said 'thank you'."

Camus cocked his head to the side. "And that's abnormal…how?"

"I just… It took a long time for you to notice. How could you leave this place such a dump? The library deserves your respect, Camus."

"I've been distracted lately."

Shaina peered over at the page Camus had been studying so intently earlier. On it was a picture of the human body that clearly mapped blood vessels. Someone- probably Camus- circled various segments of veins and arteries and jotted down notes.

Noticing Shaina openly observing his notebook, Camus asked, "Curious?"

Shocked that Camus actually wanted to talk to her (_There's a first time for everything!),_ Shaina stumbled over her response.

"Erm… yeah. I mean, yes. Yes. Why?"

"Medical school. I'm preparing for the entrance exam."

"That's so great. But wait, don't you have to go to college first?"

"I have."

"When?"

"I took a sabbatical for a year at Cambridge."

"Wait… How old were you?"

"…14."

"Damn." Shaina sighed. "I wish I was that smart."

_Must be a robot._

Camus examined her closely.

"You're more clever than you let on, Shaina."

Shaina smiled grimly. "Thanks, but I know my limitations better than anyone."

She then quietly returned to the piles of literature on the floor and organized books by language, and Camus resumed his studies. After an hour of companionable silence, Camus closed his textbook and headed for the door. He paused.

"I'll see you-" _Here_, he silently implied, "tomorrow?"

He shifted from left to right so awkwardly that Shaina almost laughed.

"Count on it."

The surprisingly sweet smile Camus gave her then carried Shaina throughout all her duties for the rest of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Okay guys, this took a long time to write, but I've been away for a month and my computer caught a virus. Dedicated to a friend of mine who once said a particularly notable line in here (you'll see it soon enough). **

**This chapter is over 8000 words long (excluding this author's note) simply because when looking at my plan for this story, I realized that two chapters needed to be joined together as their plots needed one another to connect (does that make sense?).**

**Anyway, here's another pickup line as I got 4 reviews last time (Special thanks to Thrudgelmir2333, Intensify, Hair-Metal-Angel, and Aerya for reviewing!)**

**Hey baby, won't you read my chapter?**

**It can be your new addiction**

**Hey baby, will you review it?**

**All you're giving me is words**

**I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time**

**I found out that not everybody reviews,**

**Not everybody reviews, not everybody reviews**

**Reviewers receive my undying affection.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Saint Seiya of "Everybody Talks" by the Neon Trees**

* * *

Chapter 5: Woman vs. Vagabonds

* * *

Tension blanketed the area, halting any indignant cries of irritated party attendees deep within their throats. A long, wicker tea table, once set for a party of four, laid pathetically on its side, table legs sprawled awkwardly toward the sky. A shining knight quivered behind the table turned shield, clutching a glass pitcher, the only undamaged piece of tableware remaining. His lucid blue eyes shifted nervously as he flipped a long indigo lock over his shoulder. He desperately sought the attention of his calmer looking companion.

The companion, in fact, did not notice the troubled glances of his friend as he was, at the time, completely fixated on another person. This companion stood on the outskirts of the clearing, holding a small, leather-bound novel open to page 167. He appeared practically serene if not for his fractionally widened eyes and his methodical stroking of a dog-eared page. But a careful observer would've noticed at this point that the golden-clad man had yet to turn the page. For the past five minutes. No, neither the shining knight or the golden companion seemed at ease. The anxious reader gazed discreetly at a petite girl clinging to an older woman's shirt in the center of the clearing.

She appeared no more than ten or eleven years old as the crown of her head barely reached the shoulder blades of the woman she clung to. The clumps in her tangled white hair looked like little bustles of flowers and her feet were bare. Mud dirtied the hem of her long sleeved, white sundress. A purple vomit colored bruise spread to the size of an egg on her temple. Despite her dazed and distracted state, she still behaved much calmer than the two men. Her big dark eyes radiated respect and love, rather than nervous fear, towards the green-haired woman she clung to. She seemed completely relaxed and, based on the smug smile of a child that rested on her face, she appeared to know some comfort the other two did not. This hidden knowledge gave her enough assurance to at least feel no fear.

At that moment, the female guardian very much resembled one of the stone gargoyles that guarded many European churches. Her pretty lips curled into a menacing snarl and a storm brewed in her ivy eyes. She tightly clenched a small sliver of silver as she glared murderously at the massive wall of flesh and body odor towering over her.

In all honesty, only the party crashers maintained any jubilant front. Their leader, a fine-hoofed centaur in his mid 20s, grinned lecherously as he blatantly checked out the assets of the viridian haired woman. He licked his lips suggestively and made a lewd gesture to the rest of his herd. This action did not escape the notice of the woman, and she now seethed with anger. The tips of her ears turned red with rage and she ground her teeth loudly. The man behind the table shivered, and the gentlemen who had been reading earlier raised an eyebrow. The centaur unwisely chose to step forward.

"Lookie here, babe–" he began but could not finish.

"One step closer," Shaina threatened, "and I'll cut your balls off with a butter knife."

* * *

_24 hours earlier…_

* * *

In the Aquarius temple, Shaina lived life with precarious balance; a book was always tucked under her left arm, she held a cup of coffee in her right hand, and her foot found a permanent place in Milo's face.

Her typical morning began with pointless arguments with her alarm clock (at this point she pondered naming her companion, as she felt slightly uncomfortable referring to the clock as 'It' or 'You' in their daily screaming matches), then babysitting Camus in his pre-caffeinated state followed, fending off Milo's pleas for a play-date usually came around noon, and quiet tea times with Camus remained a constant in her afternoons. She always finished the day with yet another battle against the library.

Initially, Shaina attempted to quell any feelings of familiarity or normalcy, fearing the situation was a temporary fix, but it was far too late; she was taken with her new, peaceful lifestyle. Also by now, she didn't worry so much about Camus ousting her from his temple. Every night, Camus would join Shaina in the library, usually carrying a load of medical textbooks. The pair typically worked in companionable silence for the first hour, till Shaina broke the quiet with a question or answer or thought or feeling. Discussion soon followed, and their chatter usually flowed into the wee hours of the morning. She called their conversations 'Intellectual Discussions'; Camus called them 'Periods of Intense Interrogation'.

"What's your mother's name, Camus?"

"Explain debt ceilings."

"How accurate do you think ancient Greek writings, such as The Iliad and The Odyssey, are?"

"If you were an animal, what would you be?"

Anne. Max amount a government can borrow. Accuracy is relative; history is written by the victors. Homo sapien.

Her questions varied from personal to historical to completely and utterly random. Camus constantly wracked his brain for any knowledge to satisfy her constant questioning. He even picked up an additional text or two, needing a refresher on several topics he feared Shaina would badger him about. Secretly, he had begun to enjoy their conversations; he grudgingly admired her persistence and limitless curiosity. Also, he sort of enjoyed the respect he gained when he answered Shaina. It made him feel…needed. Similar to when Hyoga was a child and always came to Camus for everything, be it a skinned knee or juvenile doubts.

_But he's not a boy anymore… _He thought somewhat remorsefully.

That particular evening, Shaina struggled to sort a novel, 'La carrière révolutionnaire de Maximilien Robespierre', into the proper genre. Though Shaina spoke more than one language, the tongue of Français had never passed her lips. The female saint knew Italian, her mother language, Greek, the language of her country, and Japanese, the language of her peers, but French wasn't stressed at all during Shaina's saint career. Therefore, when confronted with the French title, she clearly related to the expression, 'It's all Greek to me'. Camus noticed her confusion and walked over, ready to offer his assistance.

"Please tell me you speak French, Camus," she grumbled.

He laughed inwardly at that. "I have a French name, I was born in France, and during my time as a gold saint, have substantially added to this library's collection of French books, Shaina. What do you think?"

Shaina wrinkled her nose. "No need to be so unpleasant about it." She flicked Camus's bicep when she noticed the slight upward tilt of his mouth. "Just tell me what this book is about. I can't decide if I should put in the Foreign Biography-French or War-Revolution section."

"War-Revolution."

"Oh. Thanks." Shaina turned to shelve the book in the previously mentioned section.

Satisfied with her work for the evening, Shaina decided to take a break and annoy

Camus further with another question. Ophiuchus grabbed a chair, placed her elbows on the table, and propped up her chin.

"So Camus…" she drawled.

The Aquarius looked up from the papers he had been examining. He raised an eyebrow.

"Who was that Maxie Robespie bloke on the book?"

"You mean, Maximilien Robespierre?"

"Yeah, yeah. Him." Shaina feigned a yawn in order to hide a laugh when she noticed the miniature tick mark on Camus's forehead.

Camus sighed and kneaded his brow. "We really need to work on your pronunciation skills. And memory. And perhaps maybe even have a lesson on common courtesy…" His eyes narrowed at her after that last statement. Shaina felt like a schoolgirl with a new, mechanical doll; Camus was far too easy to wind up. Camus inhaled deeply before beginning his historical rant. "In 1789, the French Revolution occurred. The people of France sought to eliminate their country of a king and achieve an egalitarian society. When King Louis XVI and the rest of the royal family were captured, politicians debated over how to punish their former king. Among them, Maximilien Robespierre fervently believed in the death penalty. He convinced his peers that Louis XVI had discarded the constitution he had sworn to uphold, and therefore deserved none of the benefits that accompanied the document, such as the right to a trial. Robespierre's wish was granted; they executed the king. Robespierre continued to preach during the Reign on Terror-you do know what that is right?"

Shaina nodded. "Everyone trying to kill everyone basically, because they thought practically all citizens had conspired with the king."

"Yeah. Well Robespierre encouraged the masses to just guillotine any suspects without a fair trial. He preached that terror was necessary to rid France of all evil, and that 'uncertainty of punishment encourages all the guilty'*."

"I take it he wasn't well liked?"

"Would you be fond of someone who encouraged killing people left and right? Anyway, let's continue. However, Robespierre's downfall can be attributed to his-at the time-peculiar religious beliefs. He was a deist; one who believes that God, or the 'Supreme Architect', created the universe but then stepped aside, leaving humanity to function on its own. Robespierre sponsored a Festival of the Supreme Being, which greatly irritated many people, as they thought he was starting to create a religious cult worshipping him. After that, he lost many of his supporters and ironically, was executed without a trial."

"…"

"I assume that was a satisfactory explanation."

"Wow… Camus. How big is your brain?" She gently tapped his skull. He recoiled slightly at her easy touch. "This Maxie guy sounds like a complete jackass. But karma worked in that situation, I guess."

"He's one of the few revolutionaries without any sort of commemoration in Paris."

Shaina pulled a piece of hair back behind her ear. "Hmmm. I'm not surprised. He's far too controversial to be celebrated openly. And he's a bit of a nut job."

Camus leaned back in his seat. "Then Shaina, tell me this: is he insane because of his beliefs or because he followed through with them?"

Shaina froze then; usually she asked the questions. But after a few moments of thought, she came up with an answer.

"Neither. We all hold beliefs we do not voice aloud; for example, I know of several saints who have darker views on humanity than our lady Athena. Unless directly confronted, they do not speak of their cynical beliefs and do not act on them either. Those saints simply continue to dutifully serve our goddess. And, mankind does not find Gandhi mad simply because he proudly presented his beliefs and followed through with them by peacefully protesting. Robespierre is a nut job because although he claimed he helped his country by 'cleansing' it of conspirators, in reality he hurt his people and was too caught up in his own dreams of egalitarianism to realize the wounds caused by his actions. That's why I think he's crazy. Who's dense enough not to notice that?" Shaina let out a large exhale and smiled triumphantly when she finished her monologue.

Camus merely nodded his head in approval, but that small recognition gave her pure joy. Shaina grinned at him again and rose from her seat, ready to take her leave for the evening.

"We have a lot of mission travelling time tomorrow," he called out after her. "So be prepared for an impromptu French lesson."

_Mission? Oh crap._

"You forgot, didn't you?" She could hear the sigh in his voice. "A diplomacy mission with the centaurs. Remember? The pope gave you a description…"

_Well it was kinda a bad day, Camus,_ she thought angrily. _That stupid, pompous ass of a leader and I talked about stuff a lot more important. And he made me cry. And not that I'd actually tell you any of these thoughts, Camus. God. _

"Good night," she responded sourly.

"Sweet dreams…" he echoed after her.

Camus was then left alone in the library, wondering how exactly he upset her this time. However his mood changed drastically when he caught sight of 'La carrière révolutionnaire de Maximilien Robespierre' on the shelf. He silently congratulated himself. Camus had a feeling that reading the book and then leaving it out in plain sight for Shaina to see was an excellent plan. Not only had he impressed her with his superior knowledge of French history, but also he had coaxed her into conversation, deepening their dialogue.

Yes, the day was definitely a success.

* * *

Beeeeeeeep.

Shaina struck an arm out to smack the obnoxious alarm clock into submission. After a few minutes of aimless flailing, she managed to smack the wooden alarm clock, sending it crashing down to the floor. Realizing that she did in fact have a mission today, she grudgingly rose from her bed. She then glowered at the helpless clock, lying face down on the floor.

"You're such a jackass."

She picked up the clock and turned it towards her, so they could have a proper face off.

"I don't wake you up. I don't judge you. And I give you the privilege of basking in my morning glory, with all my beautiful expressions."

As usual, the clock made no attempt to respond.

"You are so unfair, you fiendish, amputated extremity of a tree. Wait…unfair…"

At this, Shaina smiled, somewhat demonically, and used her talon-like fingernails to carve something on the back of the clock.

"Well at least you're not called 'It' anymore."

After she finished preparing herself for the day ahead, Shaina blew the clock a kiss as she walked out the door. The clock remained stoic, quietly persisting through the indignity of having 'MY NAME IS MAXIE ROBESPIERRE' carved on its back.

Besides which, the clock knew it had greater things to do than engage in a battle of wits with the silly, teenaged girl.

* * *

Milo loved life. Milo loved missions. Milo loved BFITWFUs.

Milo even appreciated the pope at that moment.

_Thank you goddess! Thank you for arranging a prolonged period of time in which I can bond with my BFITWFUs! _

The fact that Camus had muttered, "Oh god", and Shaina's terrified expression didn't even register with the overjoyed Scorpio saint. He was far too happy to be in the company of those he considered friends. Camus comfortingly patted Shaina's shoulder; the young woman had yet to go on an official mission with the ever-energetic Milo.

"How bad is it going to be?" she whispered.

"He mellows out after the first few miles of traveling," Camus whispered back.

The pair let Milo lead the way to the small town on the outskirts of centaur territory. Camus attempted to teach Shaina several, basic French phrases, but she struggled with the pronunciation. In particular, Shaina had trouble remembering that one does not pronounce the H's with the _hahh _noise. For example, in the French word hors d'oeuvres, it isn't pronounced _hoar dwerves_ but _oar dwerves, _as if the H were not there in the first place. Shaina grew increasingly irritated with the language and asked Camus if they could stop.

"If you put your mind to it," he gently scolded, "you could do anything. Now try again."

She half-heartedly scowled, inwardly glowing at his backhanded praise. Although she desperately wanted to quit, she continued the exercises anyway, not wanting to be viewed by Camus as a slacker. Milo joined them as well, eager to participate in their chatter.

"I don't know why you're bothering to learn French; it's only the language of diplomacy. Contrarily, Spanish is the language of passion." Milo flashed a blinding grin, openly challenging Camus, who in turn wasted no time retorting.

Camus then argued with Milo over the superiority of their respective mother tongues all the way to the border town. Seeing the two debate over such a trivial matter amused Shaina greatly, and she could see why the two were fast friends. Milo lived with his heart on his sleeve, always willing to share his thoughts and feelings. Though he lacked the calculating logic Camus displayed, his aptness for innovation and creative thinking won him several of their arguments. Camus, on the other hand, maintained a cool front at all times, yet he still managed to express his personal opinions with miniscule actions. Also, Camus held a stellar memory and a cutting intelligence that was both awe-inspiring and intimidating. The two complimented each other, similar to the yin and yang. Emotion and Logic. Innovation and Intelligence.

_If you combined that pair,_ Shaina thought, _and then split that being in half, you'd get a perfect individual._

However, in physical looks they didn't differ as much. Both were tall individuals with long dark hair. And, although Shaina was reluctant to admit it, she found both to be aesthetically pleasing. It consoled her though to know she wasn't alone in that opinion. As they journeyed down the town's main street, citizens discreetly (and some more conspicuously) observed the handsome duo. Young girls, distracted by the Gold Saints' sudden appearance, were chastised by their parents for neglecting their more pressing, familial duties.

Shaina's eyes wandered about their surroundings. The old buildings were painted a variety of warm colors, ranging from golden yellow to orangey red. Mediterranean roof tiles covered the tops of all the buildings. Cracks adorned the surface of the exteriors of the structures, but the residents appeared unconcerned with the fractures in their homes' paintjobs. The citizens themselves also appeared warm and easygoing; Shaina observed that they took time to greet their neighbors kindly and occasionally stopped to chat with a friend passing by. A girl with hair the color of apple blossoms bargained with a hardened herb vendor; young mothers chatted with one another as their children played together. It looked like a happy, thriving town, unaffected by the hardships that usually accompanied somewhat rural residential areas. But as she continued her casual crowd watching, her gaze caught on an out of place individual.

The middle aged man leaned against a stone parapet. The ragged, yellowed shirt he wore appeared to have been white at one point, and several rust red patches dotted it. His trousers were a musty olive color and had many patches. He wore no shoes on his calloused feet and his ebony hair was covered by a red, torn bandana. The man himself also seemed ragged. His tanned face reminded Shaina of a craggy mountain with grooves carved into the mountain face by rivers travelling to the sea. But on his face, the wrinkled grooves were more likely caused by hot tears than fast moving water. In his hands he shakily held out a small tin cup in which he begged the townspeople to deposit a few coins. However, all people veered away from him, unusually fearful of…something. There was no happy jingle of metal on metal when he shook the cup in people's faces.

"For the love of God…" he pleaded.

Shaina's blood started singing in her ears; she noticed something…familiar in him. She unconsciously gravitated towards the broken man. When his dark eyes finally met Shaina's gaze, a chilling recognition pulsed through her veins, and in that moment, she knew he too felt their connection. Before Shaina could reach him, beseech him, rescue him, a familiar force pulled her back.

"Shaina." The cold tone of Camus startled her. He tightly clenched her wrist, preventing her from continuing forward. "We need to move on. Now."

Camus seemed unbearably tense. Milo wrinkled his nose slightly, as if he smelled something distasteful. The Scorpio shot the broken man a warning look and then gestured to Camus, signaling it was time to move on. Camus, still holding her wrist, pulled Shaina forward and plunged into the crowds. When the past few minutes' activity finally registered in Shaina's mind, she dug her heels in the ground, forcing Camus to stop. His steely grip frightened her, and she desperately tried to pry his fingers off, but he refused to relinquish his hold.

"Shaina, trust me," He looked pleadingly at her. "Let's go."

And with those few words, painful memories came surging back.

* * *

_Flashback to the 'Incident'_

"_Shaina, trust me," the boy laughed. "Let's go!"_

_Hand in hand, the green haired girl and the Pegasus saint rushed through the city with a single destination in mind. They giggled and breathed out rushed apologies as they occasionally ran into ordinary pedestrians. The boy apparently had selected a dinner venue and specific time slot ahead of time, and he made a point to insist that their meal would be 'the most awesome thing ever' to his companion as often as possible. Sweaty and out of breath, after 20 minutes of panicked running, the pair reached a small café perched on a hill in the outskirts of Rodario. At that point, the sun had begun its setting course and bathed their surroundings in golden light._

_The young woman felt incredibly warm as she basked in both the affection of Pegasus and the dying rays of the sun. With her fingers intertwined with his, she felt for the first time in her life like heroine in a fairytale; she had both a prince and a happy ending hovering over the horizon. The green haired girl couldn't help but smile at her crush, who in turn frantically wiped his face, convinced that something must be on it and catching his lady friend's attention. She laughed at him, and, embracing spontaneity, rolled up to her tippy toes and kissed him. Pegasus, although somewhat shocked at first, enthusiastically returned the romantic favor._

_She was rising and falling all over again._

_When the two broke apart, blushing and a tad awkward, Pegasus gestured towards an unoccupied table, eager for dinner. Their aimless small talk flowed easily into the hours of the night. However with the deepening color of the sky, the boy darkened too, his mood growing far too serious for a romantic date. Mindful of the change in his mood, the lady friend gently took hold of his hand and asked him what was wrong. Releasing a heavy breath, Seiya began a tale he had needed to tell the young woman for a while._

_He spoke of a phantom like girl, a plethora of sea creature knights, and the unanticipated arrival of the golden hull of Sagittarius. Shaina listened carefully with growing horror. The boy reminisced about the ghost's ability to manipulate illusions and her use of the technique 'Thunder Claw'. The golden armor had protected Seiya from the phantom's ultimate strike, and he made use of the opportune moment and struck with 'Meteor Fist'. With that blow, the phantom's helmet split and it's true identity was revealed to be that of a young girl. He held her in his arms as she drew a final breath. Her fierce, dark eyes, fine features, and repertoire of technique eerily reminded him of someone he had known before, and it was only in the past year did he ascertain the ghost's connection with a dear member of his inner circle._

_Seiya anxiously rubbed circles on the table, scrambling to gather all bits of courage he possessed._

"_Shaina… The girl I killed was your sister."_

_Shaina stared at him wide-eyed and disbelieving. When she realized the impact of his statement, that she had in fact cherished and loved and kissed her sister's killer, she wrenched her hand from Seiya's grasp and fled the scene, sending a water glass crashing towards the Earth as she did so._

_Seiya didn't chase after her. He simply slammed his head on the table and then remained utterly still. When a waiter came by, offering a check, he didn't move. When the cleaning staff cleared the table, he didn't thank them. _

_When the restaurant owner herself came out to clean up the shards of glass and muttered darkly, "You'll be paying for this", Seiya merely murmured back, "Don't worry, I already am."_

* * *

When the trio reached the outskirts of the city, Camus finally relinquished his hold on Shaina's wrist. Bristling with fury, Shaina gently massaged her aching wrist, glaring daggers at the Aquarius.

"How dare you. I'm not a child."

Camus sighed. "You endangered the mission."

"How so?" She laughed bitterly. "Enlighten me."

"You were veering towards an unknown, clearly diseased individual, whom quite honestly could've been anyone; a friend or foe. Your plaintive desire to consort with him would've taken precious time, dedicated to this mission, and thrown it on the wayside. Remember your duties." Camus's eyes had never looked so frosty to her before.

"He needs me."

"We need you. Sanctuary needs you."

"You don't understand…" Shaina almost choked on the bubble of panic burbling in her throat. "He wasn't well. He needs me. I have to go back…"

"No, you don't, Ophiuchus. The centaur representatives are awaiting our arrival."

"But Camus, as saints, isn't it our sacred duty to not only upheld peace and protect humanity, but to aid all those in need? Do we not have the responsibility as human beings to care for our fellow man? Camus, please. Let me go back."

"A question for a question; did you not notice the aura of illness surrounding that man? By interacting with him, you most certainly would've contracted the disease and spread the contagion among your fellow saints upon your return to Sanctuary. And with that juvenile error, you would cripple Athena's army. Do not think me foolish for pulling you away. Leave matters such as these for actual health professionals, not novice female saints."

"'If you put your mind to it, you could do anything'", Shaina mocked. "Where is your confidence in me now, Camus?"

"Left abandoned on the roadside, waiting beside your forgotten responsibilities and good temper."

The female saint then shot him a dark look and refrained from speaking to him for the next leg of their journey. Milo's attention flickered between his two friends; Camus, pretending not to be hurt, read a leather-bound novel as he walked, and Shaina, obviously upset, appeared to be brooding once more. The Scorpio saint inwardly debated over whom he should console first. He slowed his pace to match that of Ophiuchus.

"He was really sick, Shaina."

Her head snapped to attention; she had been caught up in her own little world.

"He didn't smell right. The odor of death and blood was floating around him like some cloud. Camus took one look at him and started muttering crap about a 'tuberculosis outbreak', and then he started running toward you."

Shaina stared incomprehensibly at him.

"Camus just didn't want you to get really sick, that's all." Milo shifted uncomfortably. "Don't be angry with someone who cares about you, that's just stupid."

"Hmph. Caring?" Shaina scoffed. "That's one emotion he doesn't express properly. Consider me fooled by his so-called 'front of cold condescension'."

Milo ruffled her hair familiarly, and she sent him a glance filled with annoyance. "Don't be angry forever. Rage doesn't suit you, and Camus doesn't deserve it from you."

She examined the ground closely.

Milo looked curiously at her, closely examining some aspect of her expression. After some searching, he turned away, a ghost of a smile fluttering about his face.

Soon after, their small traveling party reached their destination, a wooded area with a single main clearing. Camus gestured to his companions that they would take a break from the midday heat in the shade as they waited for the centaurs. The invisible divisions of disagreement kept Camus and Shaina far from one another, as both were unwilling to explain their actions. Milo almost wanted to laugh at their bitterness; he thought the two acted so similarly when it came to their personal emotions. They expressed the literal feelings differently, but when caught in an argument, both preferred to wallow in discontent on their own rather than fix the issue or apologize. Milo's BFITWFUs were quite stubborn individuals.

Shaina brooded. Camus read. Milo daydreamed.

An hour passed.

Camus looked anxiously at the angle of the sun, noting the time of day and comparing it to the time the centaurs should've greeted them. They were late. The Aquarius's sadness morphed into barely concealed frustration.

_Where the hell are they?_

* * *

A sudden rustling in nearby bushes created enough stir that Camus, Shaina, and Milo broke free of their respective activities and looked over.

"Probably just a rabbit," Milo stated confidently.

The susurration continued until a petite girl, with long, tangled white hair running down her back, stumbled out of the foliage and looked up sheepishly at the three, much taller saints. She then blushed and closely examined the ground, all the while nervously fumbling with the hem of her white dress. Camus, not expecting something nearly as anticlimactic, felt somewhat disappointed and only focused half of his attention on the confrontation about to occur and the other half on his book. Contrarily, Shaina stepped forward, curious about the child; she remembered her from the town's marketplace. She and Milo exchanged a look.

"Hon?" Shaina began hesitantly. "Have you been…following us?"

The girl nodded.

_A fan girl?_

"Um… Aren't your parents worried about you? Are you from the village?"

She shook her head twice.

"Why are you following us?" Camus bluntly interrupted, to the point as usual.

At first she hesitated, uncertainty obvious in the way she bit her lip, and then pointed a finger at Shaina.

"M-Me?" Shaina stuttered as she too pointed at herself.

"Your hair." The child said, her voice like a whisper of the wind, barely audible. "It's pretty."

"O-Oh… Thank you…?" Shaina blushed slightly.

The younger girl blushed again, and Shaina and Milo realized that the girl was hovering slightly above the ground. "I want a paint color that shade."

Milo chuckled at the sight of the odd girl blushing and Shaina staring, disbelieving at her. His eyes glittered with uncontrollable mirth. "You aren't human, are you? What's your name?"

She smiled. "My name is Melia. I am a meliai." Melia then gave a small curtsey, still floating.

"Awww… You're cute…" Shaina mumbled her thoughts aloud. Melia heard her compliment and blushed even harder, the red spreading across her face and neck. Shaina felt an attachment to this odd child grow in her chest. Milo laughed before crouching down on his knees in order to speak at eye level with the little nymph.

"Melia, you don't happen to know where the centaurs might be, do you?"

A flash of fear shot across her face, but she quickly regained composure. "They usually haunt this place around now. I can show you their typical hangout…" she offered.

Camus clamped his book shut. "Excellent. Take us there immediately."

Melia flinched at his harsh, commanding tone but bowed slightly anyway to the gold saint and proceeded to guide their party, while Shaina, still angry with Camus, started mimicking the Aquarius's haughty expressions and supercilious choice of the words, a disgusted expression on her face. Milo rolled his eyes at Shaina's childish antics and sent a prayer to Athena.

_They're idiots, milady, but they're our idiots. Let them reconcile peacefully before I actually intervene and post embarrassing childhood pictures of Camus across Sanctuary and reveal to everyone Shaina's passion for dolls, so that in the end, they will unite in their newfound hatred of me and team up so they can maim me more effectively. I really like the current length of my hair, goddess, and I really don't want to have to grow it out again after Shaina and Camus mercilessly decide to shave my head. So please? Could you pull a few strings? _

* * *

Tired of dealing with her negative feelings, Shaina discarded any thoughts of Camus and decided to satisfy her insatiable curiosity by conversing with the petite nymph, Melia, whose entire expression lit up when the older woman deigned to speak with her.

"So you are a painter?" Shaina asked warmly. Melia nodded. "So how long have you been painting?"

"Since before I could talk," Melia responded proudly, "though I have to admit my finger painting lacked some emotional depth…" The two girls laughed.

"Hey, could I see some of your work, Mel?"

Melia's eyes turned to the heavens. A nickname! Her very first nickname! And one given to her by a _silver_ saint!

"O-Of course, Shaina! I'd love to! And in exchange," she looked up shyly, "you can tell me about some of your exploits as a saint!"

Shaina scratched her head. "How 'bout a funny, Sanctuary story?" Melia nodded eagerly. "It deals with a narcissistic saint, some sketchy herbs, and some pretty killer Jell-O. So it started out as a typical day…"

Camus discreetly listened to their easy conversation and inwardly chuckled at Shaina's ridiculous antics. She obviously had a soft spot for the little girl and was desperately trying to make her laugh. He knew then that she had also noticed Melia's sudden jolts of fear at the mention of centaurs, and that she was trying to assuage the girl's fear. He admired her capacity for kindness, and, he realized as he watched them, he wished he could join in their conversation and once more be assaulted with questions. He unconsciously shook his head. Why in the world would he want anything but tranquil silence?

Meanwhile Milo kept on his long-winded prayer that by now sounded more like a list of complaints_. They'll probably eat my gingerbread sundial. I know, I know. Camus mocked me when I first made it, saying, "I didn't know you liked cockroaches", but secretly, he was jealous! My sundial is a work of artistry! People would pay millions to have the privilege of gazing upon its clock face! Okay, so there are cockroaches. Okay, so maybe it makes me hungry every time I go by it. Okay, so what if I have to buy out Rodario's supply of icing each month. I got it! It's still awesome milady!_

The two girls' easy conversation provided a soundtrack for both Camus and Milo as they continued their respective activities.

* * *

"We're here," Melia's whispery voice broke his reverie as it weaved itself through Milo's rambling thoughts. He noticed a slight waver in her tone that had not been present when casually chatting with Shaina. Why was she suddenly so hesitant? He then saw a rectangular, wicker table with four matching chairs on the grass. An ash tree, its branches ominously droopy and menacing, leaned over the set up. Milo brushed up beside Camus. The Aquarius's rigid body posture clearly sent off the signal that he had noticed too. Shaina appeared somewhat intrigued rather than on edge; she still thought Melia held no foul intent, although it was now evident that the nymph had been expecting their arrival for a while now.

"A-Ah. I had the table…set for guests that haven't quite arrived yet. Would you care to join me for a quick pitcher of lemonade and refreshments?"

"Sounds good, Melia!" Shaina flashed a dazzling smile her way. "It wouldn't be too bad to take a quick break before the centaurs get here."

The nymph flinched slightly again. "Of course."

The three saints eased themselves into the designated chairs while Melia pulled out a glass pitcher, four cups, some petits fours, and a set of small plates from a basket beneath the table. The nymph then carefully poured the lemonade into the glasses, making sure not a drop of the liquid hit the table. After finishing, she set the pitcher down and lightly grasped her cup. The saints copied her.

"To new friends and good fortune," Melia smiled weakly. "Drink up."

She gulped down the liquid. Camus brought the cup to his lips, gave it a discreet sniff, and emptied the drink directly on the table. The soaked surface immediately began fizzling, forming a small depression in the table. The white paint on the wicker blackened. Milo deftly pinned Melia's arm to the table, but the girl still struggled, frantic with panic.

"Caro infectorem?" Camus droned in monotone. "The flesh killer? It may not affect nymphs, but for humans the herb is always fatal, as it destroys the organs from the inside out." He looked at her oddly. "Under ordinary circumstances, I never would've thought you a killer."

"Something tells me she's not the typical assassin. I think a few questions are in order before any hasty action, Camus," Shaina argued on behalf of the little nymph, addressing Camus for the first time all afternoon.

The Aquarius merely nodded, and Shaina turned sympathetic-rather than enraged, as Melia expected- eyes toward the meliai. Melia burst into sobs, the fat tears clinging to her cheeks.

"Do you want to kill us, Melia?" the female saint asked gently.

She shook her head 'no'.

"Did someone else want you to harm us?"

She nodded 'yes'.

"The centaurs?" Camus cut in.

_Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes yes._

With his free hand, Milo brushed back a strand of hair hanging in Melia's face to reveal an eggplant colored bruise the size of an egg. He then rolled up her sleeves to examine her arms, pointing out oddly prominent scratches and unnatural bruises to his companions. Shaina flinched when she saw the burn marks covering her upper arms and shoulders. The skin had obviously not been cleaned by antiseptics or treated by antibiotics as the healed skin looked red and blotchy. Melia began to cry, humiliated by the prying eyes that now gazed at her shameful scars. Milo released her.

Shaina softly wiped the tears from her pouring from her eyes. "How long?"

She whimpered. "Eight months." The fiercely loving gleam in Shaina's eyes encouraged her to continue. "This used to be the Valley of Manna, childhood home of Lord Zeus. Kapaneus, then only a young centaur with no respect for the gods, convinced his people that our pastures rightfully belonged to the centaurs, and that the meliai had somehow _stolen_ this land from them."

Melia grimaced.

"Soon after that decision, the killings started. A sister would voyage into the deeper woods simply to never return. No corpse to be found. We lost a great many of our number then. When a quarter of our population disappeared, the elders grew deathly afraid and politely asked our neighboring centaurs for their assistance in tracking down the threat. They refused, and it was then that we realized that the centaurs held sinister motives.

"We tried to fight back, but we couldn't combat the burnings. Every day, a mother tree was set aflame and with her dying breath, a nymph sister accompanied her to the Underworld. My scars are from the times the flames brushed against my mother Ash. My body is only an extension of my sacred tree." Melia gently pressed her forehead against the torched bark on the ill ash tree.

"Are you the only one left?" Camus asked quietly.

"_Yes._" No tears fell now. Only the dark melancholy that weighed down on her shoulders revealed the depth of her sadness. "I cannot live alone, yet I do not want to die. For your heads, they offered me mercy. But I do not want to hurt anyone. I just want my sisters and my mother and the happiness so cruelly snatched away from me. That's all I want." Her voice broke.

Shaina reached for her, but before the two could actually touch, a rude gathering of excess testosterone intruded on their private moment. Camus's shoulders tensed. Milo sighed. Shaina appeared enraged.

A particularly menacing centaur with a scar running from his left eyebrow to the right corner of his lips sneered at the small gathering.

"So Melia, my dear…" he boomed, "what the hell are you doing?" His posse laughed. "God, you're such a failure. I thought I told you to get rid of them."

Melia stared at the ground. Another centaur flipped the wicker table over and flung the dainty dishes at the ash tree like Frisbees. With each resounding blow the tree took, Melia flinched, and as if the glass had cut her, splotches of red appeared on her side. She didn't cry out as she took the abuse; she only stood stoically, all too familiar with the centaur's mistreatment. Milo sprung into action and restrained the centaur from throwing the glass pitcher.

"Man, we just came to talk. Just control your-" The centaur flipped Milo upside down and onto the ground, making Milo unable to finish his sentence.

The Scorpio was pissed. Quite honestly, Milo seethed at the indignity of being manhandled by the mother fucker and was plotting the painful demise (72, torturous hours of scarlet needle poisoning usually reserved only for the greatest felons of Sanctuary) of the fool, but Camus caught the rash young man just in time. _Not yet._ Milo sighed but retracted his scarlet needle anyway. The Aquarius tilted his head in Shaina's direction, and Milo could clearly see that of the trio, Shaina was clearly the angriest. Blood dripped down her palms for the young woman had clenched her fists so tightly that her nails pierced her skin. She seemed to be showing enough restraint to keep herself from pummeling the pompous idiots, thoughts of_ diplomacy_ and _peaceful relations_ kept her behavior in check.

Gritting her teeth, Shaina stalked over to where Melia suffered silently and took the girl's hand. She whispered something in her ear. Melia's eyes widened and then she suddenly relaxed. After picking a sliver of silver off of the ground, Shaina turned around to face the centaurs, and Melia grabbed onto the back of her shirt.

Camus opened his book to page 167. Milo backed up behind the upturned table. Shaina snarled.

With a narrow of her eyes, the battle began.

* * *

_Back to present time…_

* * *

"I like bitchy girls," Kapaneus grinned.

Milo shook his head in disbelief; obviously the pervert had no self-preservation skills. Strangely, the rage fled Shaina's delicate features, the tension in her muscles released, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Kapaneus mistakenly took this as a sign of submission, but both Camus and Milo knew this was merely the eye of the storm, the deadly calm only foreshadowing the coming end. Shaina's brilliantly green eyes flickered open.

"Say it again."

The cocky centaur took this, once again, as a sign of imminent success. "I said, I like bit-"

Shaina's fist slammed into his nose, instantly breaking it and causing blood to ooze down his face.

"Wh-What the fuck?" Kapaneus screeched, clutching at his face.

She shrugged. "You said you like bitches, and I am the most demonic of them all."

Shaina then cracked her knuckles and continued her rampage, tearing through the centaur horde with a sleek, reptilian grace, slicing and dodging and punching and weaving. Melia admired her from the sidelines, a dreamy look about her face. _"I swear that I will never let them touch you again," Shaina had whispered_. The Ophiuchus saint, being a protective woman, was the first person to make Melia feel truly safe in a long time. Maybe even loved. The young nymph felt a glowing warmth spread from epicenter of her heartbeat to the tips of her toes. Happiness? It had been far too long of a separation. _All thanks to you, Shaina._ Melia couldn't stop smiling.

Milo puzzled over Camus's actions, or in this case lack of action. He let Shaina wreak havoc on the centaur forces, spared the meliai from prosecution, and even now, seemed in no rush to restrain the ferocious Ophiuchus saint. Milo eased his way over to Camus's side, an eye watching Shaina's one-sided battle and the other allowing him to navigate his way.

"Aren't you going to stop her?"

Camus blatantly ignored him and kept reading.

Soon after Milo asked his question, the entire brood of centaurs lay defeated on the ground. Melia rushed over to the viridian haired woman and wrapped her arms around her. Shaina returned the embrace and Milo could tell from the animated gestures the pair made that the two were exchanging promises and well wishes and sweet parting words. Milo thought he glimpsed a thin trail of tears rushing down the nymph's cheek, but as quickly as it came, it vanished, almost as if it had evaporated in the forceful light of the sun. The girls gave one another a last second hug, and then Shaina marched over, all the while waving at the white haired girl. Unusually happy, the Ophiuchus quietly hummed under her breath. When Milo gave her an odd look, she shrugged and said, "What are you waiting for?" and plunged into the forest back the way they came.

The sudden noise of pages slamming against pages startled the Scorpio, and he looked over at his friend.

"Some say discipline is another form of diplomacy," Camus said, a coy look in his eye before he followed Shaina.

Suddenly suspicious, Milo swung his head back around for a last glimpse of Melia and the clearing. The centaurs were all encased in a gigantic, communal Freezing Coffin. The final image of the fallen Valley of Manna engraved in his brain was that of a small, young girl gingerly reaching out to touch the enormous ice sculpture, her eyes wide with wonder and filled by hope.

Somewhat bewildered, Milo began to wonder just how much they thought they operated on the Pope's agenda and how much they actually worked on Camus's personal agenda.

* * *

_Dear Shaina,_

_Is it silly that I already miss you, after three days apart? I'm so childish, but I can't help it! It's awfully quiet here in Manna… The centaurs haven't bothered me whatsoever, your friend made sure of that. But I wish there was some sort of chaos here that could break this intolerable silence. The birds may sing and the deer may prance, but they are not great conversationalists (they get so distracted, always muttering about food)._

_Again, I miss you (and of course Milo too!), and I hope you could perhaps visit soon…? The Aquarius Gold Knight seemed strict, but maybe if you asked him nicely, you could stay here for a couple weeks? Maybe?_

_Anyway, I wanted to tell you about something strange that happened to me, the day after your party left. I was sweeping about the Ash tree when I noticed a small, inconspicuous pouch. I opened it and found seeds! But not just any seeds, they were Ash tree seeds! It was astonishing! A tag was attached to the bag with the word "HOPE," inscribed on it. Isn't it miraculous? I wondered whether you or Milo had a hand in this, but I dismissed that thought simply because the two of you would announce your visit. But still, what a miraculous and wonderful gift._

_Although meliai are known to be well mannered, perhaps a league of baby nymph sisters will be the source of mayhem I long for! _

_Visit soon, Shaina!_

_Love,_

_Melia_

* * *

Awkward.

Never before had one word so readily described the Aquarius temple.

Shaina and Camus, still affected by insomnia, continued their nightly tradition of working in the library, but found that even three days after their argument, the ease in which they once spoke to each other had dissipated.

Shaina calmed down significantly since the event, though Camus's forwardness and drive to control her still irritated her. She found she couldn't blame him for his actions but regardless couldn't accept anyone domineering her life. Camus however, grew increasingly frustrated with the Ophiuchus's 'silliness'. He reasoned that by now, a sensible person would've apologized for overreacting and releasing their anger on another person. After constantly looking after her and those she cared for, Camus longed for some sort of recognition. He didn't need a thank you, but he realized behaving selflessly without acknowledgment was far more difficult than he previously imagined. _How can she be so oblivious?_

Once she finished her duties that evening, Shaina lingered near the doorway, itching to say something, anything. Camus pointedly focused on his studies, pretending as if Shaina wasn't there, waiting for a "Good night" or "Sweet dreams". Finally, she tired of waiting and slipped quietly out of the room. When her back turned, Camus's eyes flickered toward her retreating figure, noting the sadness tensing her shoulders and the anger clenching her fists. Watching her, Camus knew that as an adult, he should act maturely, reaching out to the younger woman. But he feared her sadness, her regret. He knew that should he share her burden, something would irrevocably change between them. Making things different.

It was enough to make him sick to his stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **

**Guys, I suck. School took over my life. I have an official apology letter for you guys on my profile, 'cause I don't want to take up to much space here (as you are, hopefully, wanting to read the chapter and not my rambling).**

**Special thanks to Thrudgelmir2333, Intensify, and Hair-Metal-Angel for reviewing! Please do review **

**Special Note: Guys, I turned Milo into a Spaniard. I know he is supposed to be Greek, but I am taking writer's license and converting him. (I see him as Spanish, so…). And also, with the stuff relating to the Underworld and whatnot, I took writer's license too. I don't know if I am technically 'correct' from a mythological standpoint, but oh well. It works with the story. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Saint Seiya**

* * *

Chapter 6: Woman vs. Decisions

The gentle, morning sun bathed the coffee cup, resting on a matching white saucer, in a pool of light, as the delectable, brown liquid frothing within the mug steadily released clouds of steam. A spoon had been thoughtfully placed beside the arrangement along with a single sugar cube that perched precariously on the edge of the saucer.

From a perspective judging the situation with aesthetics in mind, it was a quite lovely display; the idyllic placement of the tableware roused thoughts of quaint, English teatimes. However, from the perspective of a tired Aquarius saint, the situation appeared terribly lonesome: a single cup and saucer without a partner to join it at the table.

Alone. Solitaire. Solo. Allein.

The sunshine served only as a spotlight to emphasize his solitary status.

Camus sighed and ran his fingers through his messy, turquoise hair. The caffeine that fueled his everyday activities did nothing to assuage the pounding in his head, the ache in his chest, and the congestion in his sinuses. It further grieved him that when he had initially approached the table in his groggy state, a flash of viridian had rushed from the room and out the door. Only after his consumption of the coffee did he realize he had not seen his housemate, the viridian flash, in an awfully long time.

His surprise turned to self-righteous anger; if she wanted to see him, she should visit him, not run from the room. If she wanted to be cordial with him, she should speak to him. If she wanted to be with him, she should make an effort! Her behavior wasn't justified by the fact that in the hallways, he never greeted her, that he buried himself under layers of layers of work, that his fear of her ultimate rejection paralyzed him to the point he feared meeting her. It wasn't his–

Or maybe it was?

The sinking feeling dragged him deeper into his reverie. Lately, when he returned to the library for his nightly studying, his desk, left messy the night before, was straightened up; the papers were sorted, the pencils sharpened, and the eraser shavings cleared away. And now this. Obviously it was her handiwork; no one else knew about his favorite coffee mixing and his peculiar need to have a spoon nearby. But why didn't she stay? Why didn't she stay to see him?

_I miss you._

The sentiment struck a chord, and he spent the rest of the morning drowning his sorrows in a coffee-scented haze.

* * *

Shaina came to the conclusion she just couldn't control herself anymore. Initially, she planned to remain steadfast–absolutely no communication with Camus until he apologized. But then she started to notice his haggard appearance, the steadily darkening bags under his eyes, and his newly developed tendency to slouch. The whole affair began with little favors: buying more laundry detergent, procuring coffee beans, washing the mugs before enough of them accumulated to build a small pyramid. Camus's utter lack of regard for his own health both surprised and disgusted her; she thought only Seiya capable of such slobbery. Curious as to why Camus stooped to this low standard of living, she discreetly snooped about his work area in the library.

Hundreds of papers sprawled across the table, hiding the wood from view. Camus's manic scrawl dominated each paper; he wrote on every available square inch, monopolizing the space like a real estate broker in a big city. It then struck Shaina, after glimpsing a calendar with an ominous red circle highlighting a Friday two weeks from then, that the entrance exam for medical school was quickly approaching. A wave of guilt proceeded to crush her; Camus didn't deserve all this additional anxiety and stress from her deliberate avoidance.

_I'll just clean this stuff up now, and then…_ Shaina decided, _I'll talk to him tomorrow. And set everything straight. _

However, when an ideal moment for confrontation arose, Shaina, knees locked and heart racing, fled the room. Over and over, rather than apologize first, Shaina preferred to sulk outside the Aquarius temple or in her room. Her stubborn pride refused to acknowledge or justify his actions. This cycle continued to that morning, two weeks after the fateful event and a week before the impending exam.

"…Shit. Shit shit shit shit," Shaina cursed under her breath.

Her feet simply whisked her away from Camus, but slowly enough for her to glimpse her housemate. Camus was a train wreck. His gorgeous hair resembled a peacock's tail feathers, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was sniffling in a way she found deplorably cute. Her heart was screaming, "Let me take care of him!", and her brain was shouting, "Oh no! Here we go again!", and her body simply decided, "Let's get out of here!"

So now, she was standing outside the Aquarius temple, in freezing weather, at 6 AM, wearing a thin pair of spandex shorts and a gag sweatshirt emblazoned with the words, "MY BFITWFU WENT TO LONDON AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID SWEATSHIRT." And she had no shoes. However, Shaina's pride (the bastard) refused, once again, to allow her to venture inside the temple, gather some appropriate clothing, and talk to Camus. So Shaina shivered and attempted to regulate her cosmos in such a manner that she could keep warm.

Gently probing the area with her cosmos, Shaina could tell that the Aquarius was still hunched over the breakfast table, nursing his beloved coffee cup, and knowing Camus's typical behavior, Shaina knew that it would be quite a while before he budged. Shaina pondered her predicament. Her house–no, Marin's house now–wasn't too far from the temple, and if Marin hadn't burned all of her possessions in a distraught rage, there was bound to be at least an old pair of pants available for wear. And Marin was probably out of the house, already training her slew of new pupils.

Grudgingly, Shaina marched off toward the little cottage, but when she arrived, all light was extinguished within the building and the front door was locked. She then smacked her forehead, ran her fingers through her hair, and shivered. Despite her distress, she took a moment to examine her old home.

She noticed little had changed. The unruly bunch of petunias that congregated beside the steps that led to the front door still propagated freely; the exterior remained the same yellow-y white she and Marin had painted it so long ago. Not that she expected it to change, of course. Her departure didn't mean anything really. _It was just…a little change_, she tried to convince herself, but a swell of disappointment overcame her; was it too much to want to see some sign that Marin missed her? Shaina missed the gentle scolding of the redhead and the mature air the woman carried about her. She missed Marin's patience and willingness to care for her.

Shaina gently pressed her face against the dark windowpane, searching for any sign of life, her breath fogging up the glass.

"She's in Japan, y'know," a deep voice whispered in her ear. "Guard duty."

Shaina immediately spun around, grabbed the nearest weapon within hand's reach–which just happened to be a petunia–and brandished it in the offender's face. Milo started laughing uncontrollably; his cheeks were flushed and he clutched his sides. The color gradually drained from Shaina's face, and she began to nonsensically wave the petunia at Milo.

"You."

"Yes, me. Hey!" he exclaimed. "You're wearing the sweatshirt I gave you!"

"You."

"I think we've already covered thi–"

Shaina smacked him with the petunia and caught him in a headlock.

"Ever do that again," she hissed, "and I will kill you."

"I give! I give!" Milo managed to cough out.

At last, she relinquished her hold, and Milo stumbled away, coughing and massaging his neck. He glared at Shaina, who glared right back at him. The glare-off could've continued for a rather long time, but fortunately, nature intervened. Several dark, cumulonimbus clouds gathered above their heads and unleashed a merciless army of raindrops. The two ran to the protective eave of the house, but unfortunately, the small square footage of the dry spot forced the pair to inhabit the cramped quarter in close proximity to one another.

"Well…this is one way of getting closer!" Milo joked, but Shaina's frown didn't budge and her downcast expression didn't lift.

Milo sighed and approached her with a different tactic.

"You miss her? Marin, that is?"

At this she raised her chin sharply and turned to glare at him. "No! Of course not!" she said stubbornly, the melancholy in her eyes betraying the lie falling from her lips.

"It's okay, y'know. No one would blame you."

"Just shut up!"

A little hurt, Milo kept trying to catch her gaze, but she stubbornly stared at her feet.

"You shouldn't lie to yourself about it either, at the very least." She softened slightly at his words, and Milo continued, "That night before…Camus…expired…I was being a complete pain in the ass. I refused to leave the guy alone 'cause I was so bored and so sure that those little bronze saints were all bark and no bite. So I annoyed Mr. Icicle until 3 in the morning, when I headed back to my own temple." At this point, he snuck a glimpse at Shaina, trying to see if she was listening or not, but her hair obscured her face from view. "But then, when I faced Hyoga, I was…surprised, to say the least. I mean, I guess I should've known better about his skills, since Camus, once he starts talking about him, can't stop talking about him. In those days, he never shut up about Hyoga's improvements and accomplishments and failures. Since he was Camus's student and the whole affair was getting out of hand, I just let him."

Shaina's eyes widened.

Milo continued, "I just let him through. I let the boy who is practically my best friend's son pass through to the Aquarius temple to fight the man who was a better father to him than Mitsumasa Kido. I wasn't thinking. Okay, so maybe I was," he nervously rambled. "I thought, 'Teachers should discipline their own students', and left it at that. Obviously, Hyoga didn't free himself from the ice coffin on his own, so I figured the boy wouldn't be able to touch Camus, let alone defeat him. But I forgot…about the emotional condition required for absolute zero…" Milo whispered. "And Hyoga was his Achilles heel, the one person that prevented Camus from ever achieving it… I delivered the perfect assassin to my best friend's doorstep. I might as well have killed him myself."

Shaina tugged on the hem of Milo's shirt; she doesn't want to hear the pain in his voice. This was escalating too quickly for her, but Milo ignored her wishes. He wanted to talk about this.

His voice wavered, "Then there was the fight with Hades, when I actually finished him off myself. I thought Camus had succumbed to Hades, and although I desperately wanted to apologize, to get it off my chest, I couldn't. Not to a 'specter'. When I found out the truth, I couldn't handle it. I had killed my best friend twice, and I coped by pretending that I didn't care, that he was just another saint, just another fighter, just another loyal supporter of Athena. When I died, I was stuck wandering near the gateway to the Underworld because my guilt, tethering me to reality, prevented me from achieving happiness in Elysium. I spent a year lying to myself. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, and I didn't weep. I was wasting away, torn apart by the weight of my sins, and I refused to acknowledge the cause of my agony. Do you remember the day Athena returned all of the fallen saints, Shaina?"

She nodded; she remembered Marin's tight grip on her hand, her fingernails buried into her palm, and the unearthly, glowing lights that descended from the heavens down to Sanctuary.

"I lost it. I completely and utterly lost it. When I first saw Camus, I tried to beat the shit out of the guy and then… Geez," Milo cracked a crooked smile, "I don't even want to remember how long I…uh…cried on Camus's shoulder and talked the poor guy's ear off... Don't live with regrets, Shaina. I couldn't stand the thought of appearing weak or compromised in any way, so I refused to acknowledge my pain, but by doing that, I only increased my suffering. My dreams every night were consumed with regret; in each I relived that horrific day. You can't even imagine…my relief at seeing Camus again, the one person I can talk to without restraint. In fact, Camus was angry with me. He said, 'If you are a true saint and we are true friends, then there is nothing to forgive. You acted with Athena and justice in mind, which is all I ever ask of you. And fighting my student…was perhaps the greatest gift I ever could've given the boy.' Just a few words from him erased all of the pain."

He looked her straight in the eye. "Marin is important to you, right?"

Shaina nodded.

"And Camus too?"

She nodded again.

"Then you know what to do." Shaina's bangs covered her eyes, and thinking her upset, Milo comfortingly patted her on the head. "Don't worry ab–"

Shaina wrapped her arms around his neck, wrenching his head down. She merely shut her eyes and squeezed, hoping that somehow this embrace could express all the things she never managed to say in words. Milo was awkwardly stooped over her as he was much taller than Shaina, but he still returned the hug. When moisture penetrated his shirt, Milo came to the shocking conclusion that the Ophiuchus was crying. A little flustered, he wracked his brain for something clever or heartfelt to say.

"Shaina, you're going to get snot all over my new shirt if you keep on crying."

She somehow managed to slam her knee into his gut while still maintaining her grip around his neck. Milo wriggled and choked.

"Shut up, idiot."

"So now we're talking. You're terrible at hugging people."

"I didn't give you permission to speak, bastard."

"…You call me by the nicest endearments, Shaina."

Her absurdly long nails sunk into the back of Milo's neck, warning him that continuing a conversation would be hazardous to his health. Milo hurriedly acquiesced to her demand, a ghost of a smile fluttering about his face. By the time they ceased embracing, the rain had long since stopped, and the sun had risen much higher in the sky. Only the slight redness hovering in the corners of Shaina's eyes gave any hint whatsoever that the young woman had wept. Milo felt slightly disheveled himself. Thinking that they both might need some fresh air and perhaps even breakfast, Milo wordlessly offered his arm to Shaina. Although somewhat hesitant, she still took it, and the pair marched off, arm in arm, to Rodario.

* * *

A series of coughs wracked the body of the petite meliai. For a solid week now, Melia had been suffering from an intolerable cold. Regardless of the herbal teas she drunk or the amount of blankets she piled on top of herself at night, her condition had yet to improve. However, Melia refused to take a sick day. Her baby brothers and sisters needed her! If she were to disappear for a full 24 hours, what would they do without her? Some god-awful bird could swoop down from the heavens, tear up the turf, and kidnap her precious baby seeds! Such neglectful behavior would cost her dearly.

So Melia continued her duties, working the earth, watering her siblings, and trading with the neighboring farmers.

Unbeknownst to her, these farmers were quite concerned with her health as well. As they cultivated their own crops, they saw the young, silver-haired girl determinedly plow the soil and perform her regular duties. But as of late, the girl would often be overcome by serious coughing fits that rendered her immobile. Her closest neighbor, Farmer Giorgio, mentioned this in passing to his beloved wife during one of their nightly gossip sessions.

"Dear me! Do you think she could have _that_? The outbreak has been spreading! If she is infected, she must go to one of the camps, Giorgio!" she pleaded. "Think of one of our children suffering from that malady. Something must be done!"

Filled with worry for his family, Giorgio discussed the issue with several other neighboring farmers, who all agreed with the sentiments expressed by his wife. A consensus was reached, and with a heavy heart, Farmer Giorgio was sent to deal with the sickly meliai.

But somehow, as he drove the knocked-unconscious Melia to the isolation camp, he couldn't help but feel something was dreadfully amiss.

* * *

Camus heard their approach long before he saw their joyful faces. Shaina and Milo walked into the temple side by side, laughing and teasing. The glimmer in Shaina's eyes did not fade when she entered the room he occupied, but she hesitantly remained by the door of the kitchen, unsure of whether she was welcome or not. Milo was having no more of her hormonal angst and ushered her inside. Smiling shyly, Shaina placed a newspaper in front of Camus.

"I thought you might…enjoy this," she finished lamely.

Camus only curtly nodded in return before immediately diving into the issue she had procured for him. Wishing to return the gesture, Camus relinquished the Headlines section he treasured so dearly to his female companion, hoping that this gift could act as a peace offering. Shaina gracefully accepted it, and as an act of courtesy, began perusing through the section.

"Have the two of you already had breakfast?" Camus interjected calmly.

"Yeah," Milo commented. "Whoa… Camus, how many cups of coffee did you consume this morning?" he said while pointing at the absurd amount of empty cups in the sink.

"Eleven," Camus quietly muttered.

"Eleven?!"

Suffice to say, the Aquarius and Scorpio resumed their routine bickering. Shaina took no notice of the talk between her two companions, as she was thoroughly engrossed in an article. The ominous title, 'Tuberculosis Outbreak', stretched across the page. The picture below the headline was that of a small caravan filled with sickly people. An individual toward the upper right corner of the image caught her attention. Pressing the paper closer to her face, she identified the person as the ill gypsy from her previous mission. He looked no better in this photograph: same tan skin, yellowed shirt, and dark hair. The article described that an entire gypsy caravan, of whom all the members possessed either asymptomatic or symptomatic TB, apparently stopped in several Grecian towns. The disease spread like wildfire, and no hospital had the facilities to accept all the patients. The infected were forced into isolation camps in several countryside locations where they lived in makeshift tents and the handful of doctors present made rounds. More new patients arrived every day, and the death count rose as the grounds steadily grew unsanitary. Fear clutched at Shaina's heart; though the article attempted to sound positive, the despair and lack of hope felt by the author increased her anxiety. Another thing bothered her. Why weren't the saints informed of this? Though they were fighters and not healers, they could still assist the efforts of the medical practitioners! The dark eyes of the gypsy man bored into her.

_You shouldn't lie to yourself about it… Don't live with regrets… Then you know what to do… "For the love of God"…_

Her only certainty was that Camus was not going to be happy with her after all.

* * *

At midnight, Shaina woke up with the snooty clock ticking incessantly in her ear and thoughts of Camus jumping between synapses in her brain. With tired eyes, she blearily looked around the room and realized that the true cause behind her exhaustion was herself; her indecision tired her out far more than any mission, and the only way to absolve her restlessness would be to officially ask for an end to their argument. The packed knapsack by her bedside only reaffirmed that notion; she could not leave without peace between them. She could only leap out of bed and pray that he felt similarly.

As usual, Camus was studying intently in the library. He had just gotten up to peruse a bookshelf when Shaina quietly approached him, a thousand nonsensical, unconnected thoughts rushing through her head. Camus froze; he sensed her uneasiness. After briefly gathering her resolve, she proceeded to lightly rest her head on Camus's chest and wrap her arms loosely around her torso. At first he stiffened, but then he relaxed. He in turn placed a hand on the back of her skull and closed his eyes.

When they broke apart, besides knowing all grievances had been put aside, the two perhaps pondered whether they understood each other far better than they previously thought. Camus figured that after reading the article, Shaina could not stop thinking about _le malade_. Initially he wondered whether Seiya had once more invaded her thoughts (Camus secretly held a growing concern that he reminded Shaina of him) but discarded that possibility because she seemed more…on edge rather than dazed and morose. The sight of the diseased Gypsy on their past mission disturbed him but pulled her attention, and had he not intervened, Shaina might have interacted with the man and perhaps contracted a particularly damaging strand of Tuberculosis.

Shaina knew, based on the intense, analytical stare Camus gave her that he worried greatly for both her emotional and physical health. The Camus of a month ago would've never forgiven any physical contact between them, preferring to push Shaina away than embrace her. But now… It felt nice to know he cared.

Camus, eyes downcast, returned to his workspace and resumed analysis of his notes. Shaina awkwardly hovered beside him, not daring to disturb the silence.

"Just go," he said abruptly, not even glancing away from his textbook.

Shaina's heart unexpectedly wrenched; she wanted him to tell her to stay, to have conversations that lasted long into the night. Despite her hurt, she was grateful for his acceptance of her actions. She bent over, murmured "Thank you," and impulsively pressed her lips against his cheek.

Camus didn't look up when she exited the library. He didn't look up when he felt her cosmos travel away from the Aquarius temple. He didn't look up when her fiery essence faded to that of an ordinary citizen.

Her lips had burned him, marked him, promised her return to him. The sudden emotion blooming inside his heart terrified him; falling for her would ensure no recovery. Loving a woman like that was a one-way street to chaos.

When he woke the next morning, her kiss still burned.

* * *

The morning sun sleepily rose above the mountaintops to send light to the small village. The green haired woman basked in the sunshine, the light collecting around her as if to give her a heavenly glow. The dark haired man with coal-colored eyes shielded his eyes with his palm. When the glow dimmed enough, the man moved his hand and sighed. His fists tightly clenched the faded fabric of his olive pants.

"You shouldn't have come here, Sofia."

Shaina retorted sarcastically, "It's nice to see you too, Dad."


End file.
